


The Fountain of Tiresias

by fleurofthecourt



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Depression, Domestic, Established Relationship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mpreg, Spells & Enchantments
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-08
Updated: 2013-08-30
Packaged: 2017-11-13 19:35:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 31,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/506979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleurofthecourt/pseuds/fleurofthecourt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Nick and Monroe try to catch an elusive Hexenbiest at a museum heist, a Wesen potion prevents them from doing exactly that. Much to their chagrin, it also results in Nick, who is not especially pleased about the situation, being pregnant. </p><p>Monroe and a few others do their best to help Nick cope.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for dubious consent under the influence of drugs and heightened libido.

Monroe woke up to a splitting headache and the sun spilling into his bedroom. He lifted his arm and squinted at the Roman numerals on his watch. This was one of those times when he briefly wished that he’d opted for a practical digital watch over the small and difficult to read wristwatch that he had on. But he just figured that was the price of integrity. He gave a small grunt when he realized he’d overslept doing his pilates by two hours. When there was no sound of indignation from the other side of the bed about the disruption of his sleep, Monroe’s still half asleep mind registered that Nick wasn’t there. 

There were a few minutes of wild panic as distant memories of the night before flashed into his head. They had been in a museum looking for a hexenbiest that had mixed mind altering potions that had made a few non-wesen men very susceptible to a particular idea -- that of stealing the better portion of an antiquities exhibit on her behalf. The potion had been similar to the one that Adalind had used on Hank, differing by only a few, but very significant ingredients. Since it was meant for more than one person, the effectiveness was lower, but the hexenbiest had made sure to find men who were already invested in a life of crime and just adjusted their current crime to her will. 

Unfortunately for both the hexenbiest and Nick, giving these criminals the potion in order to work for her was not the equivalent of getting them to work with each other. Consequently, her first attempt had failed, and one of her men was dead, and another one had told Nick enough of what was going on to deduce most of the hexenbiest’s involvement. After which, Nick had decided to try to stop the robbery in progress. 

Monroe had met Nick at the museum’s entrance, with the potion’s antidote in hand. It was after hours, and they had both found the museum’s ambience to be more than a little off kilter. One might go so far as to say creepy. Nevertheless, Nick had a job to do, and Monroe figured he might as well provide some back-up. He may have had some pacifist tendencies, but he let those go by the wayside easily enough when it came to protecting his friends, especially his significant other.

Unfortunately, when they went into the museum, there was no sign of the men they were looking for or the hexenbiest --though that was less surprising-- in any of the galleries. Nick, always reluctant to give up, pushed his way into a closed off storage area that Monroe wasn’t certain the Portland PD was supposed to have access to. This had led to both of them breathing in some strange mist that Monroe distantly remembered having a cloying scent of cinnamon and mint. 

He can’t say he remembered much clearly after that. He knew that whatever had been in that mist had caused utter chaos for the rest of the evening. He remembered distinctly that they had somehow dragged themselves outside the museum, and once outside it, they had done things with each other that they likely could have been arrested for public indecency for. He felt fairly certain that a fountain and a certain lack of pants had been involved. They had been all over each other, and he didn’t think they would have been able to stop, even if they had wanted to. 

At one point, Nick had a moment of clarity long enough to pull out his cell phone and find Rosalee’s speed dial. He distantly heard Rosalee trying to ask them pertinent questions about what was going on, her tone patiently trying. She'd clearly figured out enough to know that this wasn’t really something she wanted to hear over the phone, but also that they might be in real trouble. Likely because Nick had yelled at her in a sharp, fearful tone when she’d threatened to hang up. Then, he thought that Rosalee must have come to get them because he remembered leaning against the leather interior of a car that he’s only vaguely familiar with. He wasn't sure how Rosalee knew where they were as he can’t imagine either of them had enough mental capacity to tell her. 

Whatever had been in that mist had certainly driven up their libido and had an intoxicating effect. However, what Monroe did remember seemed fairly straightforward and logical with the exception that Nick seemed to have been shouting intermittently about the fountain’s snakes coming to life. 

Monroe shook his head and groaned inwardly as he decided that whatever had happened last night needed to be discussed as soon as possible for a variety of reasons. He glanced at Nick’s bedside table and saw that his cell phone was still there, and his leather jacket was crumpled up on the top of his dresser. He sighed in relief. 

Then he heard a broken sob emanate from the hallway. He wasn’t sure what had brought that on, so he shrugged on a t-shirt and slowly walked down the hall to where a thin trail of light from the bathroom was falling on the beige carpet. He knocked hesitantly, “Nick...you okay?” 

“Yes,” Nick said before making sounds that suggested he was regurgitating last night’s spaetzle and, possibly, yesterday morning’s bagels. Then he amended his answer to, “Well...maybe not.” 

Monroe paced in a small circle around the hallway twice, then he rested his hand on the bathroom’s door knob for a moment before twisting it. To his relief, Nick hadn’t bothered to lock the door. Nick looked up at him with a mixture of gratitude and embarrassment as Monroe moved to sit down on the edge of the bathtub. 

“Man, that stuff hit you a lot harder than it hit me. Waaay harder. I think I’ll take my headache,” Monroe said as he rubbed his hand along his forehead. Nick’s brows knitted together for a moment before he leaned forward over the toilet once more. After a moment’s hesitation, Monroe started running his hand down Nick’s back in soothing strokes, unsure what else he could do, or if Nick even wanted him in the bathroom. It was one of those things people sometimes like to be alone for, after all. But he really didn’t _want_ to leave him alone.

When it seemed like Nick was finished, though at that point Monroe wasn’t sure what could be left, he pulled down a bottle of Pepto Bismol from the medicine cabinet, poured some into a measuring cup, and handed it to Nick before sitting back down on the tub. 

Nick swished it around for a minute, gave the pink liquid a look of disgust, and then swallowed it with a grimace. Then he slumped against the side of the bathtub below where Monroe was sitting and leaned against him, placing his hands firmly on the tile as though it were an anchor, “If I hadn’t just done it three times, I’d think throwing up was the better option. What the hell kind of wesen concoction did we breathe in last night?” 

Monroe rolled his eyes when he noticed that Nick was now looking up at him waiting for the answer, “Whatever you may think, I really haven’t been, you know, mastering potions in my spare time. I think we’re going to have to crack a book on this one.” 

“Or ask Rosalee...” Nick suggested, tilting his head slightly. It spoke volumes about how miserable he currently was that it sounded a little more like a question than a definitive course of action. 

“Uh yeah. I’ll call her. Think you’re okay to, uh, maybe, uh, take a shower?” Monroe asked, in his best attempt to politely alert Nick to the fact that he had signs of emesis in his hair. 

Nick gave a weak nod as he wrapped both arms across his stomach and leaned forward. Monroe decided he’d come back in a few minutes just to make sure Nick had made it off the floor, “And please don’t lock the door. I’m, you know, worried about you.” 

“I’m sure I’ll be fine. But I’ll leave the door alone,” Nick said as he nodded unconvincingly. 

****

Nick would have been hard pressed to explain how much pain he was currently in. It felt to him that a million small knives were poking into each of his internal organs, and one of them was due to burst at any moment. Rationally, he thought he really ought to be asking Monroe to take him to a doctor. Irrationally, he thought that if he waited for that dreadful pink stuff to kick in or the after- effects of that drug --which was currently having no lasting effects on Monroe -- to wear off, he would be fine, and he could go to work and go on with his day. 

How he was going to get to work when he hadn’t yet managed to solve the problem of getting off the bathroom rug was not something Nick wanted to think about. He knew he really needed to shower, firstly because he didn’t enjoy the smell of vomit clinging to him and secondly because Monroe would know something was really wrong if he didn’t. But he was finding it difficult to find the will to move. 

If it weren’t for the hexenbiest on the loose, he might not have been completely against staying home for a day or two. However, with the information that he had collected on her, he didn’t think anyone else in the department would be able to solve the case. He’d told some of it to Hank, but he wasn’t sure Hank understood how powerful and dangerous wesen potions could be. And he _really_ didn’t want to tell Hank about what Adalind had done to him. 

He sighed heavily as he placed his hands on the edge of the bathtub and worked to pull himself to his feet. He gasped sharply as the already severe pain amplified tenfold. The room started to spin, and his eyes began to water. He clutched at his abdomen with one hand and held the other over his eyes to try to make the room stay still. Small, blue and green dots of light began to dance across his vision. 

He cringed and tried not to cry out against the obviously false phenomenon. Then the colored spots swam together and formed two writhing snakes. Oddly, the snakes seemed familiar to him, jolting at something just out of reach in his memory. They slithered in concentric circles over and over again. He might have started shouting about them. He might have started calling for Monroe. He wasn't sure. He couldn’t think clearly anymore. 

His legs buckled beneath him, and he felt something sharp brushing against the back of his head. Then he heard Monroe's voice shouting for him, “Nick? Nick! Oh my God! Nick!” Then there was a sea of blackness. 

He woke up some time later to Rosalee and Monroe holding a whispered conversation; they both seemed to be sitting next to him, one on each side. He half listened without moving or opening his eyes because he really didn't want to tempt fate. His head was throbbing, and while the pain had lessened significantly, his stomach still didn’t feel settled. The strange wash of smells that suggested he was lying on the cot in the back of the spice shop was not helping. 

He caught his name a few times as well as Monroe muttering _impossible_ repeatedly. And there seemed to be something they were pointedly not saying. Finally, as if it settled the matter, Rosalee asked Monroe, “Well, do you want to tell him or do you want me to?” She sounded hesitant and concerned. Nick couldn’t imagine it was good news, whatever it was. 

“Oh. My. God. I don’t want to tell him. I don’t want you to tell him. I don’t want _anyone_ to tell him. He’s going to freak,” Monroe said. Nick slitted his eyes open and saw that Monroe’s eyes were wide and roaming the room erratically, not settling on anything. He seemed to be making a point of not looking at him for too long. “This is just not possible.” 

“Tell me what?” Nick asked as he tried to sit up. Monroe and Rosalee both shook their heads at him and pushed him back down. 

“Nick, this is really, really unusual. I don’t think I can stress that enough,” Rosalee said as she rested her hand on his shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly. “And we’re not really sure how you’re going to react.” 

“Though passing out on us again doesn’t seem out of the question,” Monroe muttered. “So probably best if you’re, you know, already lying down.” 

Nick raised his head to Monroe, confusion and an inkling of fear spreading across his face. Monroe gave him a look that Nick thought might have been intended to be reassuring but fell short as his half-smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. Nick reached for Monroe’s hand and gripped it tightly. “Just rip the Band-Aid off, guys. I’m ready.” 

“I don’t think you are,” Monroe said, then appeared to wish he hadn’t. He looked down at the floor for a moment before Nick tightened his grip on his hand, reminding Monroe that whatever was going on right now, he needed him for it. 

“Nick, do you remember seeing a snake last night?” Rosalee asked as she tapped her fingers along a book that was lying open on the table next to her. “I’m not sure you would with ...um...how you were occupied.” 

“Yes,” Nick said after a moment’s recollection. He had thought they were all hallucinations brought on by the drug. “But I also remember seeing snakes in the bathroom before I passed out. So I don’t know how meaningful that would be.” 

“It would have been a specific snake,” Rosalee said, holding the book and its accompanying illustration up to him. _Hera’s Serpent_ was scrawled in small, silver letters beneath a snake that had alternating blue and green scales. “It’s poisonous.” 

“And you think it bit me?” Nick asked, feeling like he was starting to grasp the gravity of the situation, his inkling of fear growing. 

“No, we’re almost certain that it did bite you. Right here,” Rosalee said as she pressed her finger to two small sores on the back of his neck. He had thought they were mosquito bites when they had itched mildly earlier. Considering how rough the morning had been on the rest of his body, he’d hardly paid them any mind. “They’re the consistent shape that the bite marks would be. Monroe noticed them when we were cleaning the blood off the back of your head. You hit the sink pretty hard.” 

“Because you really needed a concussion along with everything else,” Monroe commented dryly. 

Nick’s eyes grew wide, and he might have started cutting off the circulation in Monroe’s fingers. Barely processing their other remarks, he asked, “So, there’s snake venom running through my veins right now?” 

“Nick, it’s not...it’s not deadly. Relax,” Monroe said when he realized what Nick thought. Nick’s grip loosened slightly as he gave them both blank looks. If it wasn’t deadly, why were they acting so odd? 

“It, um, well, there is no good way to say this, really,” Monroe said as he rubbed his free hand through his hair. “It, uh...” 

Rosalee, clearly realizing that Monroe was never going to spit it out, said, “The venom attacks and then alters the anatomy of your sex organs.” 

Nick blinked, before giving Rosalee a sidelong glance, “Excuse me? What?” 

“Dude, your insides were kind of literally being turned inside out,” Monroe offered. Then with a short, forced laugh, he added, “Really, uh, explains why you were throwing up so much, huh?” 

“I guess,” Nick said skeptically, raising his eyes, as he reached over for Rosalee’s book. “Is this some kind of joke?” 

Monroe solemnly shook his head as Rosalee handed him the book. He looked at the illustrations and almost wanted to throw up again when he saw the graphic depiction of what had theoretically happened to his insides. The organs were twisting and expanding to twice their normal size with fluids seeping out of them at varying intervals. He held his hand up to his mouth and tried not to think about it. 

“Nick...” Monroe said as he let go of Nick’s hand and started rubbing his shoulder. “You okay? Or, okayish?” 

“Not really. I don’t think I completely understand what happened,” Nick said, shaking his head, even though he thought he did understand. He just didn’t want to. “You said my organs changed. Does that mean...?” 

“That you currently have the sexual parts of a woman? Yes,” Rosalee said as she gave him an apologetic look. “We took some of your blood, and, right now, your estrogen levels are high even for a woman.” 

“So are we just going to skip beating around the bush for part two too?” Monroe said before beginning to fidget absentmindedly with a bottle that was sitting on a shelf behind him. 

“Part two?” Nick asked. He knew with absolute certainty he didn’t want to know. 

“The venom is usually used intentionally -- not that it’s used often or anything. I mean, Rosalee and I had never heard of it before. But, it’s used for, uh, you know, fertility... purposes,” Monroe said, barely choking out the last two words, clearly hoping Nick would put the pieces together himself. 

“So...what you’re saying is, what, that... I’m pregnant?” Nick asked. He started to laugh, nervously, at the complete and utter absurdity, but he stopped short because neither Rosalee nor Monroe were laughing. 

“I’m pregnant?” Nick said again, his voice small and hollow. Rosalee and Monroe both nodded and looked at him expectantly. He knew they wanted to gauge his reaction, but he hadn’t fully processed it yet. At the moment, he wanted to get up and run out of the spice shop and discover this was all a terrible dream. But moving still didn’t seem like a good idea. 

He started to laugh hysterically until his body was being racked by half sobs. Monroe kept running his hand down his arm soothingly, and it was about the only thing holding him together. Finally, he looked up at Monroe, “Can we just go home?” 

Monroe nodded, “Yeah. Can you get up?” 

Nick sat up and braced himself against a wave of nausea and dizziness. It was nothing compared to what it had been earlier, but he really didn’t want to faint again, “If I lean on you, I think I can make it to the car.” 

After they had driven half way back to their house in complete silence, Nick leaned towards the center console, “Monroe, I love you.” 

“Well that’s out of the blue,” Monroe replied as he swerved to avoid a passing squirrel. Clearly that had been about the last thing he had been expecting Nick to say. “Not that I mind. I love you too.” 

“I keep wanting to talk about this, but I don’t have the right words for it,” Nick said. “I’m not sure I’ll ever have the right words for it. But you’re here for me, regardless. I appreciate it.” 

“Why the hell wouldn't I be? We’ll figure this out. And we’re in this together, for better or for worse,” Monroe said as he clapped his hand on Nick’s shoulder. “No matter how Goddamn weird it is.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for veiled discussion of abortion

Once they were back at the house, Nick had settled onto the couch with the intent of not moving or thinking about what had just been revealed. He knew he would have to face reality eventually, but he hoped reality could wait at least until he felt like he could walk without leaning against the wall. He had no idea how long altered organs should take to settle completely, but he was really hoping not that long. Besides, at the moment, he prefered to think he had a particularly terrible stomach virus. Unfortunately, his surroundings were not about to comply with this delusion that his life contained normalcy. 

He sipped cautiously at his ginger ale as he heard Monroe moving around the kitchen as well as a faint clattering of plastic on tile followed by some light cursing. They had been home for approximately forty-five minutes, and in that time, Monroe had been between the kitchen and his workbench at least twelve times. It seemed he couldn’t decide between finishing his commision on a decorative mahogany clock or making dinner. Considering Nick had heard the refrigerator door open no less than eight times, he didn’t think Monroe even had a plan for what to make. The earlier sound of at least a dozen small parts rolling across the table suggested that the clock work wasn’t going any better.

“Monroe? Do you want some help?” Nick asked, even though he almost entirely expected the answer to be _no_. “I can sit at the kitchen table and offer you some unwanted advice?” Then thinking that maybe he could do something slightly useful, “Or mix things.”

“What?” Monroe said, implying he hadn’t heard, as the sound of another, or perhaps the same, plastic container falling followed. Then when what Nick had said caught up with him, Nick felt like he could hear Monroe rolling his eyes. “Oh, no. That’s, you know, _thoughtful_ of you. But you stay on the couch. Besides, the last time you _mixed things_ , we had unleavened cookies.”

“I swear there was flour in those,” Nick muttered, mostly to himself because he’d long since given up on convincing Monroe. Then he leaned deeper into the cushions and turned the TV on. Almost immediately, he wished he hadn’t.

“The Discovery channel? Really, Monroe?” Nick muttered, bemused. Then he realized that what was currently on the Discovery channel was a documentary about seahorse gestation. Though he was trying desperately not to listen, he heard the narrator saying that the females laid their eggs in the male’s brood pouch before he managed to change the channel. He looked down at his own stomach suspiciously, as if he expected there to be a pouch, but the only external evidence that anything was amiss were a few small bruises that he couldn’t even see through his t-shirt. 

He looked back up at the screen and cringed. He had found a medical drama wherein the doctors were rushing a pregnant woman into the E.R to do an emergency C- Section. Then thinking it would be a safer bet, Nick flipped through the local news channels. In sequence, there were stories about the birth of multiples, the murder of a pregnant woman, and a prenatal vitamin that had a new formula. With a frustrated sigh, Nick looked down at the remote and pressed down mute followed by the digits for the classic movies channel. He only had it memorized because Monroe wanted to watch it so often, or, at least, that’s what he told himself. Once he was satisfied that the movie was sufficiently in black and white, and sadly did not seem to fit in the film noir genre-- that he definitely knew nothing about-- he devoted himself to finding something both worth watching and totally unrelated to pregnancy. 

Nick was so invested in the channel guide, he didn’t hear Monroe shuffling towards the couch. 

“I wouldn’t watch that right now, if I were you. You’d probably have nightmares for a week,” Monroe commented, his eyes frozen on the screen, as he sat down next to him and set a plate of toast and a bowl of rice on the coffee table.

“Huh?” Nick said, so fully absorbed in his quest that he’d neglected to look at the title of what was on. 

“Uh, you know you’re watching _Rosemary’s Baby_ , right?” Monroe asked as he took the remote from Nick’s lax hand and hit the power button. “Unfortunate woman carrying the child of Satan and all that?”

“Okay. Our TV is cursed,” Nick mumbled as he turned over to push his forehead into the armrest. “Every single thing that is on right now is about babies.”

Monroe gave a small huff of a laugh as he reached his arms out to pull Nick upright. “Well, you know, if we talk, you don’t have to watch it. And we really do need to palaver.” 

Nick sighed deeply as he stared down at the table. _Do we have to ?_ was on the tip of his tongue, but it sounded petulant, even in his head, and he knew Monroe was right. Resigning himself to the fact that this was necessary, he moved so that he was sitting against the corner of the couch and then rested his legs on Monroe’s knees. “Where do we even start?” 

“Well, uh, I’m sure you have questions. And, well, I’m actually, you know, flat out offering to be your encyclopedia right now. Take advantage,” Monroe said between a few spoonfuls of rice. “Rosalee and I did a lot of research while you were out. And you were out for awhile...” 

Nick nodded and picked at a piece of toast as he tried to decide what was most pertinent to know. Unfortunately, most of the first questions that came to mind where rhetorical. And he sincerely doubted Monroe had a better grasp on why this was his life than he did. Ultimately, he just stared blankly at his food. 

“Okay, uh, eat your toast, and I’ll just, you know, start spewing information at you. And this is all really awkward...so, I’m just ... so...uh, the snake venom is what makes this all possible when it, you know, shouldn’t be. After it changes your internal sex organs, it holds them in place like some kind of acidic glue. Rosalee and I, we sort of got the impression that there was some kind of ancient tribe that worshipped uteruses and therefore breeded the snakes to do this. No idea how. There were all kinds of serpentine and fertility imagery in their art though. They seemed to have been, uh, some kind of ancient cult dedicated to Hera or Tiresias. Maybe both.” 

“Monroe, as fascinating as that is...” Nick said as he nibbled hesitantly at his toast and briefly wondered who Tiresias was. 

“I’m getting off track, right. I’ll brush you up on Greek mythology later,” Monroe said. Then he continued explaining with his eyes pressed closed; Nick wasn’t sure if he was trying to remember everything he had read or if he just couldn’t say words like ‘uterus’ and ‘fetus’ while looking directly at Nick, “Ok, so most importantly, the venom holds the uterus in place and helps provide nutrients to the fetus. That’s important because the additional nutrients shorten the gestation period from nine to seven months.” 

Then he shrugged and set his bowl of rice back on the coffee table, slightly jarring Nick’s legs, “Those tribal men were only so interested in uterus worship. Couldn’t even handle having one for the length of a normal pregnancy.” 

Nick raised his eyes as he held his toast halfway to his mouth. He didn’t say anything, just waited for Monroe’s mind to catch up with his mouth. 

“Well, that’s what Rosalee was saying, anyway,” Monroe said, in an apparent attempt to backpedal, as he gave Nick an apologetic look and began drumming his fingers on the couch. 

Once Nick fully processed everything Monroe had said, he asked,“If it grows at an accelerated rate, is it still, going to be, I don’t know, normal?” 

“The text was a little, uh, patchy about that,” Monroe said, casting his eyes on the floor. 

“So, there’s a chance that I have to go through this, and we wouldn’t even...” Nick couldn’t bring himself to finish this thought. He knew that he and Monroe wanted children; they had talked about it a few times. And he had decided that that would have to be his light at the end of the tunnel. He and Monroe would have a child that was biologically both of theirs. After all, his mind rationed cynically, there weren’t other men around that had that. But, if that wasn’t the end result, then this was far too much for Nick to handle. 

“And we wouldn’t have a kid at the end, uh, yeah,” Monroe said as he gave Nick a weary, apologetic look. “But, Nick, Rosalee and I looked into it, and there seemed to be ways for you to, uh, not, uh, go through with it... but they seemed kind of risky.” 

Nick was caught totally off guard by that; it hadn’t really occurred to him that he had a choice in the matter. 

“Nick, nothing about this is, you know, normal,” Monroe said then looked Nick in the eyes. “And no one, least of all me, is going to question what you do. Though I have to be honest with you, I’m going to be worried about you, no matter what.” 

“I...I think I need to know more about all of this,” Nick said as he moved so that he could lean into Monroe’s side. Monroe wrapped his arm around his back as he nestled his head on Monroe’s collarbone. 

They were both quiet for a few awhile before Nick asked,“Do you want to have a kid like this?” 

“I do, if you do,” Monroe replied as he brushed Nick’s bangs back from his forehead. “I know it wasn’t exactly in either our day planners, but I’d be okay with that.”

Nick gave a short laugh as he closed his eyes, “I’m not sure _want_ is really the right word. Absolutely nothing is going to make this normal.” 

“Probably not, no,” Monroe said as he leaned down to kiss Nick’s forehead. “I’m sorry.” 

Nick stilled against the kiss, finding his stomach to be in a whole different kind of knots than before. He was torn between letting his imagination paint a picture of their future and letting his mind address his many fears about the next seven months. 

First, he and Monroe would take turns holding a tiny, wriggly infant as they shared warm, affectionate smiles until they finally, reluctantly placed the child in its crib, in the spare room that had finally been cleaned out. 

Of course, he would have to tell Hank. He could almost hear his reactions, disbelief followed by light mocking and finally sincere empathy, or vice versa, and he half dreaded it. 

Then Monroe would be showing a toddler his clocks and trains with unbridled enthusiasm while he offered up a shiny toy police badge. Then he would be reading reading Little Red Riding Hood aloud as Monroe walked into the child’s bedroom, looked on with abject horror, and walked back out. This he almost looked forward to. 

But to get there, he would have morning sickness, which could not possibly compare to today but could still hardly be pleasant. And it was just not a thing he should have. And with this, he realized he would have to find a doctor that would take him as a patient but would not expose him as some kind of science experiment. 

It wasn’t like he could just tell someone, and they’d believe him. He felt a little like someone had told him told him he was a Grimm all over again. And this seemed about as fair. He supposed that at least this time, he had Monroe and Rosalee from the get go. That made him feel a little better. 

But he didn’t even know what he would be able to do about work. Or being a Grimm. It wasn’t exactly as though criminals or the reapers would take a vacation because he happened to be pregnant. 

This thought alone made it suddenly difficult to breathe. He led a dangerous, often reckless life. It scared the hell out of Monroe as it was. This was not even remotely going to help. He tried not to think about the well treaded path across their bedroom carpet where Monroe swore he didn’t pace when he didn’t come home even though he knew better. Was this going to be the right thing? 

“Monroe, I don’t know what to do,” Nick said as he slumped entirely into Monroe’s lap and looked up to his warm brown eyes for answers they didn’t hold. Monroe reached for his hand and slowly twined their fingers together. 

“That’s okay. You don’t have to know right now,” Monroe whispered as he brushed a tear away from Nick’s cheek. He hadn’t even realized he was crying. 

Then Monroe pressed their hands against his chest. Nick cocked his eyes upwards, questioningly, and Monroe’s eyes locked with his, a mix of sympathy and confusion. He knew then that the gesture had been subconscious. But somehow that was what it took. His eyes guided Monroe’s eyes to where their hands now rested then he whispered, “That’s our family.”

*** 

Monroe’s hand still rested on Nick’s abdomen a couple hours later. Nick had fallen asleep on top of him, and he hadn’t had the heart to wake him up because he knew Nick’s day had been physically and emotionally draining. His emotions had been all over the charts as well, but he wasn’t a man that was now carrying a child in a womb that shouldn’t exist, so he figured he had no right to complain. Granted, it hadn’t stopped him. 

With his free hand, he continued his long back and forth texting with Rosalee. He wanted to know now if he should let Nick go with what was obviously an emotionally charged decision. It was, if truth be told, what he wanted. First because he wanted children with Nick, and if they were biologically theirs, that was kind of cool, if incredibly, indescribably weird. Second, he wasn’t kidding when he said Nick not going through with it could be risky. He was almost afraid to tell Nick what could happen -- though it mostly involved different organs being changed more permanently in a sort of life altering way. And, in rare, but not non-existent cases, the men had died. And, well, losing Nick was a nightmare Monroe couldn’t even begin to articulate -- even though it threatened to become reality often enough. 

“How do we get into these situations?” Monroe whispered into Nick’s hair, which still smelled vaguely like the mango and coconut shampoo he and Rosalee had washed it with earlier. “We just can’t ever do anything normally, can we? I mean, the first time we kissed, we were in a graveyard...so I suppose not.” 

Nick stirred slightly in his sleep, and Monroe worried that he’d woken him up. But he just burrowed deeper into Monroe's side. 

Well, if talking wasn’t going to wake him up... 

“I thought Nick was asleep?” Rosalee answered. 

“And hi to you too,” Monroe said as he glanced down at Nick again, still slightly worried. “He is asleep, and he’s, uh, on top of me. But I need to talk to you. And it’s not really, uh, a text conversation.” 

Rosalee really couldn’t argue with that,“ Monroe, just ask him again if it’s what he wants when he’s in a less vulnerable place. Though you’ll have to tell him _everything_ if he wants to think about it more. But if he’s sure, he’s sure. Don’t push the issue. Either way, I’m going to give you the name of my doctor. If you take Nick there, she won't ask too many questions, at least not irrelevant ones. You’ll have to tell her about the snake venom, though.” 

“Right, right, that you can text to me. And I’ll, uh, you know, tell Nick about her. Tomorrow, maybe?” Monroe said, hoping Rosalee would offer him some advice because he was completely lost. While he was trying his best to be there for Nick, he felt a little like he was floundering. Normal relationship problems weren’t really his thing, and this was so far into left field, he wasn’t sure they were on the field anymore. 

“Tomorrow,” Rosalee agreed. “And I’m going to come over tomorrow too. I found another book on the cult. It looks like it continued even after the decline of the Greek empire, though its continuation was, at best, sporadic. There’s a few diary pages from one of the pregnant men in here, though.” 

“I would love to see that. Nick, maybe not so much,” Monroe said, glancing down. He wondered if such a thing would be better left alone or shared. It might, after all, provide some distant sort of commiseration for Nick. Or just prove that these men had been the complete lunatics that he suspected they were. “Hey, what language is it in?” 

“It’s in English. It might be a translation though. I’ll see what I can find out. Also, I think I found the substance you guys inhaled. Tell Nick I’m not sure it really fits with what the hexenbiest has been doing. It’s usually just used to heighten libido and lower inhibitions,” Rosalee said as Monroe heard the rustling of stiff, older paper. 

“It’s a really weird coincidence that it was there, and that that snake was in that fountain,” Monroe said, measuring his words, half guessing Rosalee’s next words. 

“Maybe it wasn’t. You and Nick are both going to have to tell me more of what happened. But it almost seems like there’s some kind of hold out of this ancient cult in Portland,” Rosalee said. 

“That’s...odd. Well, we’ll all look into it, the three of us...” Monroe said, clipping his words short as Nick stirred beneath him. Nick groaned slightly and looked up blearily at Monroe. 

“‘s That Rosalee?” He asked as he rubbed at his eyes. When Monroe nodded, Nick reached up and simply took the phone from him, set it on the armrest, and put it on speaker. Apparently nothing stopped Nick from being his ever-presumptuous self. 

Monroe thought about taking the phone back, but instead just gave him a look of exasperation. Then he waited for Nick to rehash the conversation that he and Rosalee had already had. But Nick’s first question was unexpected. 

“Have Grimms and Wesen ever had children together before? That either of you know of?” He asked, glancing from the phone to Monroe. 

There was a distant sound of a stack of books falling over. And for a moment, Monroe was too flabbergasted to speak and just mouthed wordlessly at Nick. Then, he asked, “Okay... how did you come up with that while you were sleeping?” 

“Dream?” Nick offered. Monroe gave him a hardened stare because that was not really a full answer, not that it mattered, per se. It was still a valid question. “Well, we were looking in a mirror, and we were sort of each others’ reflection. It was... disconcerting. And I want to know, is that what would happen? Would it be a Grimm and a Blutbad?” 

“It is unprecedented, as far as I know,” Rosalee offered, with the sound of books being reassembled following. 

“Oh, this is too much,” Monroe muttered as he rubbed his hand down his cheek. He’d really been too worried about Nick to fully consider their future child. “Nick, the answer is I have no idea.” 

“You two had all day to come up with this possibility and neither of you did?” Nick asked, laughing darkly and shaking his head. “Oh well. It’s just another addition to the list of things I never planned on thinking about.” 

“Okay, you’re getting cynical,” Monroe said as he gave Nick a once over. Even though he’d spent a good portion of the day sleeping, he looked like he hadn't slept. And he just looked miserable. “Are you okay?” 

Nick just shook his head for a moment, “No. No, I’m not. But there’s not anything you can do about it. I’ll be okay.” He hesitated for a moment, then asked, “I know I brought it up, but can we just stop talking about all of this for awhile?” 

“Nick...Monroe...” Rosalee said as the two of them glanced back at the phone; they’d half forgotten they were talking to her too. “I’m going to let the two of you go because it sounds like you need to be together alone right now. But I want you to know I’m here for you guys if you need anything.” 

“Thanks, Rosalee. We’ll talk to you later,” Nick said as he pressed the end call button and looked back to Monroe. 

“Okay, Nick. We have six dozen things to talk about, but right now we’re going upstairs, and you’re going to keep reading that trashy werewolf detective novel that you think I don’t know you’re reading, and I’m going to keep reading _War and Peace_. Come on.” 

“I still don’t understand why you’re reading that,” Nick said as Monroe started dragging him towards the stairs.


	3. Chapter 3

“Hey Hank, Nick’s upstairs,” Monroe said. “There’s coffee in the kitchen if you want some.” 

“That sounds great,” Hank said, handing Monroe the newspaper he’d brought in for them. Then after a brief pause, he asked, “Is he really okay to work today?” before trailing Monroe into the kitchen. “He’d lie to me. You wouldn’t.” 

Monroe huffed. He didn’t really know how to answer Hank’s question. The answer was, ostensibly, _yes_ but he really thought it would be beneficial for all involved for Hank to know what Nick’s, er, condition was, if for no other reason than that it would improve his peace of mind. The fact that Nick constantly had a target on his back and no sense of self-preservation was aggravating enough under normal circumstances. Add in the fact that there was tiny human growing inside him, well... it just seemed like a recipe for decapitated Grimm.

But because he knew it wasn’t his secret to tell, Monroe turned it over in his head, taking an unnecessarily long sip of his coffee. At the moment, Nick seemed mostly fine, physically speaking, some bouts of nausea aside. Emotionally, on the other hand....well, at one point or another in the course of the past three days, he had found Nick hiding in their bedroom, trying very hard to act like he hadn’t just been crying and then, when he had attempted to pry, Nick had point blank refused to admit it or talk about it. He was almost glad they were planning on going to Rosalee’s doctor later that week, though he half thought he ought to be taking him to a therapist. 

Finally, keeping Nick’s privacy in check, he settled on, “I’ll say this, though there’s really more to the story, I don’t think he’s suffering from the concussion anymore, but that snake venom really did a number on him.” 

“Huh. So that’s not definitely a yes,” Hank said, giving Monroe an appreciative nod as he sat down cradling a mug of coffee. 

“No, no it’s not. But he really wants to put this case with the Hexenbiest to bed,” Monroe said, tapping his fingers along the counter in contemplation. “And you know how he is.” 

“So what you’re saying is nothing short of tying him down for his own good is going to stop him from coming with me?” Hank asked, chuckling. 

“Uh, yeah,” Monroe nodded. Since Nick had spent most of the previous evening going through his case notes, complaining about how much further behind being out for three days would put him, Monroe imagined this was true. “So just keep an eye on him, would ya?” 

“You know I will,” Hank promised as they heard the creak of the wooden stairs that Nick was now ambling down. 

“Kind of you to grace me with your presence,” Hank teased when he came in the kitchen. 

“I can’t let you get too used to working without me. You might remember how to work by yourself,” Nick said as he pulled down his own coffee mug. 

Monroe smiled to himself as their light banter continued. Nick hadn’t sounded so normal since the night they were at the museum. Work would probably do him some good, he decided. 

When they were all finished with their coffee, Monroe ushered the detectives out the door, encouraging them to stay out of trouble, if at all possible. 

“What would be the fun in that?” Nick asked before leaning over the doorframe to kiss him. Monroe cupped his hands behind Nick’s neck, tipping his head back slightly as he ghosted one finger over the bite mark that still remained there. 

“Yeah, what would be the fun in that?” Monroe echoed hollowly. “We might, you know, have normal problems.” 

Nick snorts, “I don’t think that was ever in the cards. Now stop before Hank figures out something weird is going on.” 

“Okay. But really, Nick, just...just be careful,” Monroe said, pulling his hands back in surrender. 

“I will,” Nick said, nodding, in a way that Monroe didn’t find particularly persuasive. He just had to fall in love with a man that always seemed to be on the verge of fulfilling some kind of death wish, didn’t he? 

“I’ll be in the car when you two lovebirds are finished,” Hank shouted from the driveway. “Any time now would be great.” 

*** 

“Yeah, that is definitely it,” Monroe said as Rosalee pulled him away from the mist filled vial on the counter. “That’s a smell that really sticks with you.” 

“Don’t inhale it again,” Rosalee said, her grip on his shoulders tightening. “Didn’t it cause enough trouble the first time around?” 

“I wanted to be sure it was the same thing; I didn’t breathe in too much or anything just now, did I?” Monroe asked. 

“You’re still lucid. That’s a good sign,” Rosalee said. “Let’s move into the back room to look over the diary so you’re further away from it though.” 

As Rosalee steered him towards a chair, he saw a book that would have fit easily into the collection in Nick’s trailer lying open on the far table. One of the pages was filled with neat, cursive text in two full columns, and the facing page had an illustration which appeared to be graphically depicting a C-section gone wrong. 

“That looks pleasant,” Monroe said dryly. “I don’t think I’ll be showing this to Nick anytime soon...” 

“How is he?” Rosalee asked as she traced her finger along the text. “You had me worried when you told me not to come over the other day.” 

“Better today, I think. But he’s kinda been falling apart, and, Rosalee, I don’t know what to do about it,” Monroe said, throwing his head into his hands and resting both on the table. “I keep trying to talk to him, but I don’t think he wants to talk about, well, any of this. Which I sort of don’t blame him for, but...maybe I shouldn’t have told Hank he was okay to work.” 

“No, you did the right thing,” Rosalee said, resting her finger in the book as she watched Monroe. “Maybe having a day of relative normalcy will help. Besides, he’s not going to have a choice about talking with Dr. Lehrer. Trust me.” 

“She’s a good doctor, but she can be a little intense at first blush,” Rosalee said in response to Monroe’s raised eyes. 

“Well, she’s probably the only one that will see him anyway...” Monroe said. “She will definitely see him, won’t she?” 

“Don’t worry. I’ll give her a call myself; I’ve been building a really strong rapport with her recently over the shop,” Rosalee said. “She’s been sending some of her patients here for wesen medicine. I’ve had a few things on the shelves that she couldn’t find anywhere else.” 

“This shop really is a novelty around Portland,” Monroe said. 

“It is for wesen anyway,” Rosalee said with a grin. Then, turning the diary towards Monroe, “Before we get completely sidetracked, this is the part of the diary I thought you’d be most interested in.” 

“ _Over the past few weeks my sausage has become less tender, _” Monroe read aloud before giving Rosalee a sideways glance. “So this was a translation, then?”__

__“Yes from Latin to German to this, and I meant the next part,” Rosalee said._ _

“Oh....okay. _Galba has been ..._ is that word frelling... fretting? _...over me. He says that the healer woman needs to put a spell over my abdomen so that she can cut me open in the manner of Caesar’s mother._ Oh geez...I see where the picture comes in _He says that this is the only way the child can be born since I cannot give birth in the way that a woman can, not having all of woman’s parts._ Well, we kind of knew that anyway,” Monroe said as Rosalee motioned for him to keep reading. _"Galba keeps telling me not to worry about what the child will be as any child delivered in such a way will be a gift blessed by Hera and the snakes she sent to Tiresias. However, it will be of no consequence if the child is a bear like him. If the child is like me or like both of us, my fear of what will happen to it or to me is too great to even write. Galba completes me, and I him. But there are few else who understand a bear and a beaver.”_

“Well, even if they threw it off a cliff or something, which they probably did, at least it was blessed,” Monroe said wryly. 

“Keep reading,” Rosalee said.

“ _Galba had hidden the writing tablets from me, urging me to rest. He thought that everything that has happened would make writing this too tiring for me. I was not well after Livia was born, and the healer woman gave a potion to me that was to help as my body returned to its original state. It was less painful than the first change, though only slightly so._

_Despite some difficulties with being cut open in the manner of Caesar, as I have learned it is not possible for those who are not of creature origins, and other men bitten by the snakes of Hera have not lived to tell the tale, we have our Livia. She is part bear, part beaver. But only Galba, the healer woman, and I know this. She told us that all such unions would yield mixed results, but that, as in nature, the bear will be more dominant,_ ” Monroe finished. 

“So, you think that our kid...will be part Grimm with a hint and a dash of Blutbad?” Monroe asked. 

____“It could be part Blutbad with a dash of Grimm. Nick’s ancestors have a dark reputation, but,” Rosalee said._ _ _ _

____“But you’re not sure he’s really at the top of the Wesen foodchain?” Monroe suggested. Musing on it, he felt the same. Although Nick had the ability to see wesen for what they were, and scare the bejesus of of them, Monroe saw little else about Nick, a few known Grimm quirks aside, that wasn’t completely human._ _ _ _

____“I suppose we’ll find out,” Rosalee said. “I’ve been scouring for information on any Wesen, Grimm relationships, but I’ve been coming up empty. You can ask Dr. Lehrer, but I’m not sure she’s any more likely to have answers.”_ _ _ _

____***_ _ _ _

____“Mr. Burkhardt, Dr. Lehrer will see you now,” one of the nurses whispered, pressing her hand lightly against Nick’s shoulder. Nick imagined she was trying to be kind by not shouting across the nearly full waiting room. He had, after all, been sitting with his head ducked down, in a vain attempt not to draw attention to himself. He had heavily suspected that revealing that he was a Grimm to a room half filled with pregnant wesen would be roughly the equivalent of lighting his own funeral pyre._ _ _ _

____However, questioning eyes had been drawn to him and Monroe anyway, not because he was a Grimm, but because, while they were not the only men there, they were the only men there not in the company of a woman. It was, truth be told, somewhat difficult to explain their presence in a OB/GYN clinic, wesen or otherwise._ _ _ _

____Or maybe the stares were just because Monroe had been rambling, for the past ten minutes, about the mechanics and history of the old fashioned grandfather clock that was standing in the corner. But Nick didn’t really believe that._ _ _ _

____He gave the nurse a faint smile before starting to follow her and Monroe back to the exam room._ _ _ _

____She checked his vitals and promised the doctor would be right in._ _ _ _

____“Even though Galileo had a design for a pendulum clock, that’s a grandfather clock to the layman, they weren’t really invented for about another twenty years,” Monroe continued, picking up, presumably, where he left off, as he sat down in the now vacant chair across from the exam table. Nick, who had become rather fixated on the fact that there were stirrups, didn’t comment or bother to point out that he knew, because Monroe had told him no less than three times, what a pendulum clock was. Unable to stop staring at them, but unable to bring himself to point them out to Monroe, Nick gripped the armrest of the chair tightly and let Monroe’s continued babbling soothe his nerves._ _ _ _

____After hearing the unmistakable click of heels on wood, the door swung open. Monroe immediately fell silent and stared at the floor. Nick noted, with some puzzlement, that Monroe now looked as nervous as he felt._ _ _ _

____“Mr. Burkhardt, on the table please,” a voluptuous woman with dark red curls commanded as she walked to the sink and began to wash her hands. Nick gave Monroe a sidelong glance before doing what she asked._ _ _ _

____“Now, I understand that you were bitten by a snake? I’ll need to see the bite mark,” she said as she turned on her heel, wiping her hands dry._ _ _ _

____“It’s on my neck, but it’s almost gone,” Nick offered, pulling back the collar on his button down._ _ _ _

____“Perfectly fine; it’s still there, and that’s what I need,” she said as she pulled the shirt further away from his back and examined the bite mark intently for what felt like forever. Nick looked back to the chairs and watched Monroe methodically twiddling his thumbs._ _ _ _

“Ms. Calvert was right about this being from _serpentes gravitas_ or more informally _Hera’s Serpent_. The first instance I’ve ever seen. Likely the only instance I’ll ever see,” she said briskly as she walked back to her cabinet and picked up a chart, wrote a few notes, and then started gathering a few things from the cabinet. 

“Now, if you could take your shirt off and lie back,” she said. Nick took a deep breath; this was the part he had really been dreading. It was all going to become that much more painfully real that he was pregnant. Certainly Monroe and Rosalee had already told him, as had a convenience store pregnancy test that he had bought in the vain hope that he could prove that those two were wrong. However, neither of those ways seemed as hopelessly clinical as what was about to happen. 

“Mr. Monroe, if you want to watch, you’ll be able to see better if you move over here,” she said, gesturing for him to pull the chair closer. 

Monroe skidded the chair unceremoniously across the tile floor, ducking his head as the noise echoed around the small room. He didn’t reach for so much as seize Nick’s hand when he sat back down, suggesting to Nick that it was not purely for his benefit. He gave Monroe a questioning look before returning his focus to Dr. Lehrer. 

He shivered slightly as she squeezed a dollop of bluish clear liquid on his chest. She waved for both of them to look up at her computer screen as she ran her probe over the freshly applied gel. 

“Now you’re not far enough along to hear the baby’s heartbeat, but you will be able to see it,” she said, tapping the center of the screen. 

Nick squinted at the screen, frowning. If he was right, what he was meant to be seeing looked roughly like a peanut. He had really been expecting something more substantial, and he felt oddly disappointed. 

Then he felt a slight tremor against his palm, and he realized Monroe’s arm was shaking. He glanced over at him, and he couldn’t help smiling himself when he saw that Monroe was suppressing a broad grin. He looked back at the screen with renewed perspective; if that little blob meant something to Monroe, then it meant something to him too. He whispered, barely audibly, “Our family.” 

“Our family,” Monroe agreed. 

Dr. Lehrer let them have their moment, but she quickly pulled the attention back to her. “Now, based on what I see here and what I know about fertility inducing venom, I would expect your due date to be around the second week of March. However, since this is out of the ordinary, I’ll have to reevaluate as we go along.” 

Nick and Monroe both nodded dumbly, neither of them having really thought that far ahead. 

“I’d say by the time you’re in your second trimester, we can schedule a C-section, for obvious reasons.” 

Nick swallowed hard as he kept his grip tight on Monroe’s hand. As far as thinking ahead went, this seemed completely out of scope. “That will work?” 

____“There’s no reason why it shouldn’t,” Dr. Lehrer said._ _ _ _

____“It looks like what the other men did, or, er, tried to do, just with less mysticism and ceremony,” Monroe offered. “And probably considerably more safety. So that’s a good thing.”_ _ _ _

____“Yes, even despite wesen tendencies to err on the side of herbal remedies, modern medicine for our practitioners has still come a long way. This will be as safe as it is possible for it to be,” Dr. Lehrer said, smiling at Monroe. As she did, Monroe’s grip on Nick’s hand loosened slightly. “Now, I’d like to talk to Nick alone for a few minutes, if that is alright with both of you?”_ _ _ _

____Although he’d prefer not to be left alone, he imagined, to be asked invasive questions, he supposed it was another thing he was just going to have to put up with. So he nodded up at Monroe who then clasped his shoulder for a moment before turning for the door._ _ _ _

____“How are you doing, Nick?” She asked. He gave her a wan smile. Monroe and Rosalee had kept asking him the very same thing, repeatedly, and he’d come to the conclusion that it was simply a loaded question._ _ _ _

____“Fine, I guess,” he said. He figured it was true too, as he had mostly come to terms with the situation. That didn’t mean he was okay with it, but he felt like he was coping the best he could. If coping happened to involve spending a more than necessary amount of time in the trailer over the past week so that Monroe wouldn’t find him trying, and failing, to hide unbidden, and not particularly masculine tears, then that was that._ _ _ _

____She went on to ask him, first if there was anything he wanted to discuss in private, which he figured was a polite way of asking if he really wanted to do this -- which he didn’t, but he wasn’t all that fond of the alternative -- followed by several probing questions about his sleeping and eating patterns and if they had changed over the past week. They had, significantly, but he had not thought that was out of the ordinary, considering. She tapped her pen against her clipboard a few times, looking lost in thought._ _ _ _

____“Now, before you go, there are few things I want to discuss. First, since this is highly unusual, there is a lot of risk. I’m not saying this to worry you, but rather because you need to be on the lookout for any warning signs that something is wrong. Nick, if you can, tell someone that you work with about this,” Dr. Lehrer said. “I already know that Monroe and Rosalee are looking out for you, but the more people that are the better.”_ _ _ _

____“Watching me like a hawk, more like,” Nick muttered under his breath, momentarily forgetting that he was in the presence of a Fuchsbau._ _ _ _

____“I’d say that’s a good thing. My questionnaire wasn’t for no reason,” Dr. Lehrer said. “When Rosalee called to ask me if I’d see you, she told me that she was worried about you. Rightly so, I’d say.”_ _ _ _

____Nick cocked his head up at her warily. He was already pregnant, what else could there possibly be?_ _ _ _

____“What makes you say that?” He asked._ _ _ _

____“Although I’m not going to diagnose you with this right now since it really hasn’t been long enough, I want you, and anyone else you can enlist to do so, to keep track of any further major changes in your diet, sleeping habits, or levels of emotional stress. You’re showing signs of depression, and I’d really like to keep tabs on that,” Dr. Lehrer said. “You’re certainly at risk for it...”_ _ _ _

____“Of course I am,” Nick said cynically._ _ _ _

____“...considering the unusual circumstances of the pregnancy and the stress that your job and identity undoubtedly put you under.”_ _ _ _

____“Is there a way to prevent that from happening?” Nick asked._ _ _ _

____“Mood disorders can be unpredictable, and in this case, set off by a major life event that you don’t really have control over, so, I’m afraid not,” Dr. Lehrer said._ _ _ _

____“Would it affect the baby?” Nick asked._ _ _ _

____“If we didn’t do anything about it, possibly,” Dr. Lehrer said. “You have to take care of yourself in order to take care of something growing inside you. So, keep me and, at the very least, Monroe, informed about what’s going on.”_ _ _ _

____As he accepted the prenatal vitamin prescription that Dr. Lehrer was handing him, he felt as though he were watching several future, undoubtedly awkward conversations unfold in his head. With a deep sigh, he wondered how long he could put them off._ _ _ _

____He went out to the lobby only to see Monroe standing in front of the grandfather clock, staring at it longingly. With a soft laugh, he crept up behind him and placed his hands on his shoulder._ _ _ _

____"I think we have enough at home, and that's an understatement, but if you aren't too afraid to ask, maybe Dr. Lehrer will let you take this one," Nick said._ _ _ _

____"You have no idea how upset I am that you aren't being serious right now; this clock is a masterpiece," Monroe said. "Also, I'm not afraid of Dr. Lehrer. Doctor's offices in general just kind of give me the heebie jeebies, and the picture Rosalee painted of Dr. Lehrer for me wasn't helping."_ _ _ _

____"You could have said something," Nick said. "Just because you want to be here for me doesn't mean I don't want to do the same for you."_ _ _ _

____"Thanks, Nick," Monroe said before pulling him up to kiss him. Nick leaned into the kiss before realizing that they had given the women in the waiting room another reason to stare._ _ _ _


	4. Chapter 4

Covering his mouth and nose with his hand, Nick wondered what exactly he had been thinking when he’d decided to lean down to look more closely at this poor woman’s disfigured form. He’d been slightly nauseous almost every morning for nearly three weeks, so why wouldn’t he be when his morning happened to include looking down at a dead body? It wasn’t as though the putrid smell of decaying flesh and dried blood was going to improve matters. He tried to justify it by looking for something key, but the bile that was trying to force its way up his throat was making it incredibly difficult to concentrate. 

“What do you think she was doing here? She’s got a driver’s license issued not more than a month ago that puts her address on the other side of town.” Hank said from behind him, oblivious to Nick’s plight. Not daring to open his mouth to answer, Nick kept his focus on the body. He could tell he wasn’t going to last much longer though. “Nick...?” 

Nick shook his head and abruptly bolted out the front door towards his truck. He leaned against it as he took in a few deep breaths of the fresh, mostly odorless air. By the time Hank approached him a few minutes later, he was feeling marginally better. 

However, Hank’s presence, while certainly not unwelcome, started to undo what the fresh air had been repairing. The stress of what he still hadn't told him was starting to manifest itself as part of his morning sickness. 

Although he knew that he had to, there were a myriad of reasons why he didn’t want to. First, he was already tired of Monroe and Rosalee worrying over him, mostly, unnecessarily; he wasn’t sure he wanted to add another person to that list. Second, there was an irrational part of him that thought if he didn’t tell Hank, maybe, just maybe, the impossible would not have happened to him, again. However, if he didn’t tell Hank soon, he had the feeling Monroe would quite willing take the dreaded task on himself. 

“You feeling okay?” Hank asked, giving him a once over. “It’s not like you to flee a crime scene like that.” 

“Yeah...don’t worry about it,” Nick said as he climbed into the truck and gestured for Hank to follow suit, trying to ignore the returning queasiness. He was starting to wish he’d listened to Monroe’s suggestion that he keep crackers in his truck for this. Shrugging that thought aside, he returned to the matter at hand,“The family that lives here has been out of town for almost a month, right? 

“But the house doesn’t really feel like it hasn’t been lived in, and there was no sign of forced entry,” Hank supplied. 

“Right. Then that girl’s clothes didn’t look like they belonged to her. But they did look similar to one of the women in the photos in the living room,” Nick said. 

“So there’s a decent chance she was staying here, though we don’t know if any of the family knew. The housekeeper didn’t recognize her.” Hank said. “When we get back to the station, we’ll look into her connection to the family...hey, you sure you’re okay? You look a little pale.” 

“I think I’m just regretting what I ate this morning,” Nick said, privately amending _or rather what I didn’t eat_. When he’d woken up to discover that Monroe had already left to drive a finished commission across town, he’d felt like he was getting away with something by running out the door unfed. Sure he could have made something himself, and he knew he should have, but, well, he just hadn’t felt up to eating. 

“Big breakfast, huh? Well I’m glad I can see you suffer the downfall of living with a man who cooks,” Hank said, smirking. When Nick just nodded, eyes firmly on the road, Hank asked, “Are you going to take the toll road back? It’s probably faster.” 

“Yeah. I probably have some change in the center console. Can you check?” Nick asked. 

“On it,” Hank said. Then after some rustling, “I’m not seeing any change...just a box of saltine crackers? There’s a Post-It on them too. Looks like Monroe wrote it. _Thought you might change your mind. Hope you find these-- M_ ,” he said, clearly miffed by why Nick would have crackers, of all things, in his truck. “They’re just crackers, aren’t they? Not some damned Wesen thing?” 

“Yeah, they’re not. Can you hand me one or two of them though?” Nick said. Hank shot him a look that clearly said he didn’t quite believe him before passing a few over to him. 

“If something strange happens because you ate those...don’t expect me to do anything about it,” Hank said, eying the saltine box skeptically. 

“Something strange already happened,” Nick muttered into the steering wheel as he chewed slowly on one of the crackers. 

Hank shot him a quizzical look, “Something I don’t already know?” When he nodded reluctantly, Hank pressed, “Something I should know about?” 

“Probably,” Nick said. He supposed this was an opening he ought to take, except having that awkward _I’m pregnant with another man’s baby_ conversation just wasn’t something he wanted to do in his truck, at least not while it was in motion. Or stopped, or period, really. “I’ll tell you about it later though.” 

“You better,” Hank said. “I know you keep your secrets for good reason, but I’d really like to be less in the dark. I don’t much care for being caught off guard by the unexplained.” 

“And I don’t want you to be. But this isn’t really like my other secrets,” Nick said. 

“So it’s not related to you being a Grimm?” Hank asked, drumming his fingers along the plastic below the window. 

“Oh, I’m sure it is. Maybe not directly. But I’m sure it is,” Nick said. He started to puzzle out if this would have been possible if he wasn’t a Grimm and Monroe wasn’t Wesen. He tried to remember if any of the incidents of male pregnancy Rosalee had found had had just human involvement. He thought he’d been watching the road through his contemplation, but perhaps not as carefully as he should have been because Hank hurriedly snapped him out of his thoughts by shouting for him to watch out. 

He looked to the side and swerved, almost completely avoiding an enormous falling tree branch. It still hit the truck, but instead of crashing into the windshield, as it would have done, it fell against the driver’s side door before tumbling innocuously to the ground. Nick’s heart was already racing as he realized that they were now in danger of barrelling into a guardrail. He slowed down enough that they just bumped into lightly, and Nick guessed as he threw the truck into park that they had done more damage to it than it had done to them. Nevertheless, he gave Hank a cursory once over before climbing out, on the pretense of checking the damage. However, once out of the truck, he ran to and leaned over the guardrail to do what he’d been on the verge of doing all morning and threw up. 

He was about to turn around to double check that Hank was okay, when he felt Hank’s hand on his shoulder, “You alright?” 

“I’m not hurt. But, no, I’m not alright... I’m pregnant,” Nick said, slumping down, feeling defeated. He suddenly felt reckless for not telling Hank before; it wasn’t as though it would have prevented a tree limb from falling into the road or anything, but he knew if what had just happened had been more serious, Hank wouldn’t have known what to do for him. Not that Nick really knew either, but he had dark visions of EMTs asking Hank some very puzzling questions for which he had no sufficient answer. 

“What? Nick...that’s insane,” Hank said, attempting to pull him upright, succeeding only in that Nick turned around. 

“I’m with you. It’s completely insane,” Nick said, leaning back against the rail and rubbing at his temple. He looked up at his truck to see that, as he’d suspected, it looked no more or less battered than it had before.

Then, he flinched instinctively when Hank brushed his hand over his forehead, which caused Hank to grip his shoulder with his other hand before redoubling his efforts, “Just thought I’d make sure you weren’t delirious. You don’t feel warm...are you cold?... you’re shaking.” 

“No, I think I’m just shook up,” Nick admitted. He had a feeling that it wasn’t just about the accident, but what it had demonstrated to him. He wasn’t doing a stellar job of taking caring of himself right now, and clearly, he needed help --perhaps independence was overrated after all. Consequently, he let Hank lead him back to his truck and take the keys from him. 

“Shook up? I think it’s more than that. I’m taking you home. Maybe making Monroe tell you about the birds and the bees,” Hank said. 

“Funny story. He kind of already did,” Nick said, leaning against the passenger side window, trying not to snort at the memory of Monroe beginning to explain the coyotls’ mating ritual to him. He only wished the rest of that explanation had been as entertaining... 

“Oh God. Please don’t tell me what you two get up to,” Hank shouted as he walked around to the driver’s side. 

“Like I would want to,” Nick shouted back. Then as Hank turned the key in the ignition, reflecting on the last ten minutes, he stared sullenly at the dashboard without a word, worrying that he hadn’t been as concerned as he should have been about Hank just then and that, even though he didn’t fully realize it yet, he was about to put a lot on him. “I’m really sorry, Hank.” 

“For what? A huge tree branch falling? I don’t see how that’s your fault,” Hank said. “Not to mention, I’m fine. I’m not so sure about you. But I’m perfectly fine.” 

“Not just that...” Nick said, and things that had been gnawing at him for a long time, even before he’d found out he was pregnant, things that he knew he shouldn’t voice out loud, because he wasn’t sure how many times Hank--or Monroe, or Rosalee, for that matter-- could take getting the raw end of the stick, were spilling out of his mouth, “I’m sorry that you got me as your partner. I’m sorry that I keep turning your life upside down.” 

He felt hot tears beginning to prick at his eyes as he stared emphatically at Hank, feeling irrationally angry with himself. He really wished they wouldn’t because it was just further proof that he was completely spiralling. He had _a lot_ to report to Dr. Lehrer that he didn’t want to. 

“Damn it, Nick. What is going on with you?” Hank asked. “You aren’t going to do this. Not right now, not ever. You already know I don’t care if you’re a Grimm. I don’t care if you turn my life upside down daily. Hell, I don’t care if you actually are pregnant. You’re my partner, and the best damn one I’ve ever had. Nothing about who you are is ever going to change that.” 

Nick cupped his face in his hands because, despite his best efforts, tears were now flowing freely down his cheeks, partially because Hank saying that meant a lot to him, and partially because he felt like Hank didn’t deserve any of this. “Thanks, Hank.” 

*** 

From where he was, sitting on the couch reading _War and Peace_ , Monroe could hear Hank and Nick squabbling on the front porch. 

“I can unlock the door myself,” Nick stated as though Hank might have doubted it. 

“Yeah, but you aren’t doing it. Give me the keys or I’m knocking,” Hank said. 

Deciding to take matters into his own hands, Monroe opened the door for them, revealing a befuddled-looking Hank and a puffy-eyed Nick. 

Before Monroe could even ask what happened, Nick took off into the kitchen. 

“We got in a minor car accident; I’m fine. The truck’s fine. Nick says he’s fine. But, he told me he’s pregnant,” Hank said quickly, a hollow look of concern cast across his eyes. 

“Finally,” Monroe said, waves of relief and worry coursing through him simultaneously, as Hank cast that same hollow look up at him. “I’m not sure you ever get used to the idea; I haven’t, exactly. But he wasn’t losing it or whatever you thought. He really is pregnant. Now, if you’ll excuse me, for my own peace of mind, I think I’m going to have to have a chat with my own personal trouble magnet.” 

“Monroe, I really don’t think he’s hurt,” Hanks said, holding his hand up to stop him, then, bringing his voice down to a whisper, glancing to towards the kitchen, clearly hoping Nick was out of earshot. “But he seemed pretty rattled and he started apologizing to me for things it made no sense for him to apologize for, and today was the worst of it, but he’s been acting odd, well, since that snake bit him. Is that when...? Was there really a snake...?” 

Not really in the mood to discuss the whole ordeal their evening at the museum had been, Monroe nodded shortly before anxiously running his hand through his hair, “Huh. He’s, uh, been doing things like that to me a lot lately too. I know he’s upset about all of this, totally unsurprisingly, but I just can’t help thinking there’s just something he’s not telling me.” 

“Yeah that’s what I thought, and I was right, but you already knew he was... pregnant,” Hank said, the last word coming out as though it were some kind of dreaded disease. Perhaps, in this case, he wasn’t too off the mark. “So it’s got to be something else. Maybe if we double team him, we could get it out of him?” 

“Maybe...” Monroe said hesitantly. Whatever it was, if Nick didn’t want to tell just him, he really doubted he wanted to tell both of them. However, Monroe was getting to the point where he thought Nick’s judgment about what he did and didn’t need for other people to know was far too cloudy to be trusted. He’d also like, if possible, to prevent further extremely heartfelt confessions and apologies about accidentally lost razors and coffee mugs. If putting his head together with Hank’s would accomplish that, he was all for it. “Well, let’s go talk to him. But let’s not press anything just yet.” 

They found Nick sitting at the kitchen table, nursing a mug of tea as he chewed cautiously on a piece of toast, looking put out. 

“I should have told him before today, I know. Just save it,” Nick said, as he tried to get up to make a run for the stairs. 

“I don’t think so,” Monroe said, pushing Nick back into his chair and then pulling one of the other chairs up next to him. He rested one hand on Nick’s thigh, giving him a brief red-tinged stare, daring him to try to leave the kitchen. “We’re talking about this.” 

He paused and looked Nick up and down, “Nick, look. I know this isn’t exactly comfortable for you...or us, really, but if you aren’t honest with us, it’s just going to make it worse on everyone. Should you have told Hank before today? Yeah, okay, probably. But I’m really not mad that you didn’t.” 

“You’re not?” Nick asked, looking skeptical and hopeful. Monroe sighed. This wasn’t like Nick, to worry he was going to take things so personally. Hell, thinking back on it, he wasn’t even sure Nick had ever properly apologized for accusing him of being a kidnapper. Not that he was bringing that up right now... because god only knows what Nick would do with that. 

“No, I’m really not. He knows now, and quite frankly, that’s what matters. Now, are you alright?” Monroe asked. 

Nick’s lips twitched slightly, but then he just stared at the table without answering. 

“Yeah, that’s exactly what’s not going to work here,” Monroe said. 

“I just wish you guys would stop asking. That’s all,” Nick said resignedly, sweeping his hand past Monroe and Hank. “I don’t think I’m really going to be alright until this is over, and I feel guilty about you guys feeling like you need to watch over me all of the time because you’ve got better things to do, and then even worse that you probably do need to.” 

“Nick,” Hank said. “We _want_ to watch out for you. That’s what friends do for each other, whether you need us to or not. Tell us you wouldn’t do the same if it was me or Monroe...uh, in your shoes.” 

“I’m sure I would. But neither of you are as completely helpless as I am,” Nick said, throwing his head into his arms on the table, nearly knocking over his tea. The splash of hot water on his arm made him moan piteously as though it had provided inconvertible proof of this fact. 

Hank and Monroe exchanged worried glances. 

“Nick, you are anything but helpless,” Hank said. “You know what you do for a living, right?” 

“Reckless, perhaps. A little extra caution might do you some good every now and then, maybe,” Monroe said. “But helpless just isn’t a word that springs to mind when describing you.” 

“Defending myself is one thing, taking care of myself is another. I’ve never been great at it, and now I’m supposed to be doing it for myself _and_ another living being. You’d think I’d be getting better at it, but I think I’m getting worse... “ Nick trailed off. Then after a long pause, “Uh, Monroe, there’s something I really need to tell you. Something I should have told you a while ago. Hank, can you leave us alone for a minute?” 

Nick watched as Hank disappeared into the living room, but he seemed no closer to spitting out whatever it was that was bothering him. 

“Nick...?” Monroe prompted. 

“I just don’t really know how to say this,” Nick said, swirling his spoon around his tea. “It’s just kind of awkward and embarrassing.” 

“And I wouldn’t know anything about that sort of thing,” Monroe said, raising his eyes. “Nick, whatever it is, I’m sure it’s no worse than things we’ve already had to deal with. I mean, for god sake’s, man, you’re pregnant.” 

“Yeah, I know, and I’m pretty sure that’s the root of the problem. So when we went to see Dr. Lehrer, she told me I was showing signs of depression," Nick said, then after a deep sigh, "and...er, I think it’s been getting worse.” 

“Oh my god, Nick! That was a month and a half ago!” Monroe shouted, standing up as he moved hastily around the kitchen table. He hadn’t been mad at Nick before. He really hadn’t. Maybe a little annoyed and frustrated, but not angry. Now, he was absolutely fuming. He knew that this wasn’t really a good way to react to this, at all, but seriously, “A month AND a half ago. Why on earth wouldn’t you tell me? Okay, yeah, I know, you already said, awkward and embarrassing. Right. But, dude, you really can’t keep stuff like this from me. You just can’t.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Nick said, giving him his patented glum, broken puppy dog esque stare. “I’m sorry.” 

Monroe completely melted at that because he had learned quickly that he was completely powerless against that look --god help him if their child inherited it. He wrapped his arms around Nick’s shoulders and collarbone from behind his chair, leaning his chin and nose into Nick’s hair. “Well I know now, and Hank knows, well, part of it, at least. I mean, I’m pretty sure he thinks we’re insane still, but we’ll work on that. In any case, you’re going to be okay; we’re going to get you through _all_ of this. I promise.” 

“But Monroe, getting through this? How am I one day going to look our kid in the eye and tell them I had to _get through this?_ ” Nick asked, and Monroe could tell that this was really bothering him. “How unwanted are they going to feel?” 

“You’re worried about that? First of all, Nick, I don’t know why you aren’t more worried about explaining how they came to be in the first place,” Monroe said. Then as he felt Nick’s shoulders tense up, thinking he’d picked entirely the wrong tact, he continued, “But really, wanting to have a kid and wanting to go through pregnancy are not the same thing at all. I’m sure there are a plenty of women out there who can’t wait for their pregnancy to be over. I am sure you’re not alone.” 

“Maybe not,” Nick said. “But it certainly feels like it.” 

Monroe wished he knew how to make Nick not feel like that because it broke his heart that he did. But he wasn’t really sure how. Nick was in a particularly isolating situation, which, Monroe thought, he had stupidly chosen to exacerbate. But now that he knew more of the specifics of the situation, he would do what he could to make it better. “Get up so I can hug you properly.” 

Once he did, Nick completely sunk into him, cradling his head on one shoulder. He just stayed there, letting Monroe rub at his back for a few minutes, before straightening himself up, looking slightly less worse for the wear, “Do you think we should get Hank some tea or coffee or something?” 

“Oh good god. I forgot he was here,” Monroe said. “And you guys drove your truck here so he probably didn’t leave...” 

“Yeah, probably not,” Nick said. “Are there any of those scones you made yesterday leftover? He probably needs some kind of incentive to believe us. Then, maybe after we all sit down and talk this out, we’ll both be okay to go back to work. We really need to look into the family from where we were this morning, and I might have a lead on our elusive hexenbiest.” 

“You sure you’re going to be okay?” Monroe asked. Then after a beat, remembering how much it had been getting to him, “I’m really sorry I’m asking. But I really need to know that you are. Please don’t leave me in the dark about this.” 

“It’s okay. I’ll try not to,” Nick said. “And, yeah, I think I’ll be okay. For today anyway.” 

Just as he said that, Hank wandered back into the kitchen, looking slightly dazed, “Hey Nick, have you tried eating apples for breakfast for your morning sickness? I’m guessing that’s what was going on this morning? My cousin always did that when she was pregnant; she has four boys now.” 

“Can’t say that I have,” Nick said, grinning. “But, I guess you’re coming around to the idea?” 

“Slowly,” Hank said. “But yeah.”


	5. Chapter 5

“Monroe, are you with me?” It sounded like Nick. He even thought it might be Nick, but he was having trouble getting his eyes to open, let alone focus on what was in front of him. “I’ve almost got you untied...there.” 

He felt something loosen around his torso, and he dipped forward slightly, forcing him to take account of his current situation. His head throbbed, his whole body was stiff and ached, and it felt like he was submerged from the waist down in ice cold water, which didn’t really make any sense. Why would he be sitting in water...with his clothes on? He tried to nod as he heard what sounded like a splash beside him. He winced slightly as warm hands settled against his shoulder then, recognizing that they were indeed Nick’s, tried to relax against them, “Monroe, we have to get you out of the water or you’re going to freeze. Can you help?” 

Monroe wasn’t sure what he could do because he still wasn’t one hundred percent on what was going on. He knew he’d gotten into some strange painful kind of mess, but he couldn’t quite remember the specifics of how, though a parking lot and a red haired woman seemed to be involved. His thoughts were hazy, and though he’d gathered the shallow, freezing water bit, he wasn’t really sure where he was or how badly he was hurt. Nevertheless, Nick sounded desperate, which led him to believe it looked bad, so trying not to panic, he attempted to reach forward to pull himself towards Nick. Unfortunately, his efforts were rewarded only by a sharp pain shooting across his right arm as it made contact with something very solid. He let out a short yelp and drew his arm back to his chest. 

“Okay, Monroe. Don’t try to move. Hank and I are going to lift you out,” Nick said. “We’ll try not to move your arm.” 

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Hank asked. His voice sounded staticy and distant, but that couldn’t be right because he was talking to Nick, and Nick was right there. 

“Either we risk doing more damage to his arm or we higher the risk of him getting hypothermia. Personally, I’d prefer he had a broken arm,” Nick said. 

“Let me clarify. Are you sure it’s a good idea for _you_ to be lifting him?” Hank asked. “...in your condition?” 

“I don’t really give a damn,” Nick said. Then, in a tone that brooked no argument, “Now we’re wasting time. On the count of three.” 

The next thing Monroe knew, two sets of hands were pulling him up and over the ledge of whatever he had hit his arm on, attempting, though not quite succeeding, to not jostle it. He moaned as they leaned him up against the ledge they had lifted him over. Wind lapped against him, all of the air suddenly seeming far too cool. He shivered violently against it, his teeth chattering. 

Fortunately, because it was helping him stay conscious, if unfocused, which seemed important, he could still hear Hank and Nick talking. 

“Nick, don’t do that. I’ll give him mine,” Hank said. Monroe had no idea what they were talking about until he was being pushed forward and his uninjured arm was being pulled through what he imagined was Hank’s jacket. Hank let his other arm remain limp at his side while he folded the jacket over his shoulder. 

“Thanks,” He whispered, or at least tried. It came out, more or less, as a soft hiss. 

“Good. Stay with us, Monroe,” Nick said, his arm wrapping around him and rubbing at his shoulder above his injured arm, which would have been comparatively pleasant had Nick’s arm not been shaking. Hank stayed on his other side and started to lean in towards him as well. They stayed like that, providing him a small, completely inadequate but thoroughly appreciated canopy of warmth, for what felt like eons, with Hank and Nick’s voices, wavering between sounding concerned and sounding angry, repeatedly fading in and out. 

Eventually, their voices faded entirely, and he knew no more. 

*** 

Blinking blearily and shivering slightly, Monroe took in the odd but distinct smell of hospital. He cringed inwardly as he glanced at the beige walls and medical equipment. 

“You’re awake!” Rosalee exclaimed, smiling broadly as she walked in from the hallway, holding a cup of coffee. She rushed across the room and leaned down to kiss him on the cheek. “How do you feel?” 

“Oh, you know, dandy,“ Monroe murmured, giving her a wan smile. Then, slowly shaking his head, “Probably be better if I could remember what in the blazes happened, aside from being drenched and _freezing_. Which I kind of still am... but last I remember before that, I had just talked to Nick...I was on my way to meet him...somewhere. Oh man, I was going to meet him at the doctor’s. Where is he? Is he okay?” 

“Only you would still be more worried about him,” Rosalee said with a short laugh. “Relax. As long as you don’t consider him leaving here hell bent on finding and doing who knows what to the hexenbiest that did this to you a problem, I’d say he’s fine.” 

“Hexenbiest, really? Oh my god, do all of these hexenbiests just lurk around everyone that Nick’s involved with so they can, you know, screw with him?” Monroe asked. Then, rolling his eyes at himself as he leaned back into the pillow, “Yeah, I suppose that’s kinda the point. I suppose that’s what I get for getting in bed with a Grimm, literally and figuratively,... so, uh, how did he and Hank find me, anyway?” 

“Well, the point wasn’t really for you to be hidden,” Rosalee said, her expression darkening. “You remember that fountain I had to come get you and Nick out of?” 

“Being there only mildly rearranged my life, so, you know, vividly,” Monroe said, giving Rosalee a questioning _what of it_ stare. 

“She tied you to the snake statue in there, and somehow she broke your arm when she was tying them back. Then there was chalk and spray paint graffiti all around it commenting on your relationship with Nick,” Rosalee said. 

“And I’m guessing it didn’t say anything about us setting a great example for other unlikely pairings?” Monroe asked. Then as Rosalee’s lips stiffened, he added, “Yeah, I didn’t think so. Well, I suppose I’m just lucky no one’s quite managed the whole actual killing of the messenger bit...”

There was a silent _yet_ flitting uncomfortably across their expressions, but neither of them wanted to address it. They wanted Nick to be in their lives, and there was nothing they could do to change what he was or how other prejudiced wesen viewed their relationships with him. It was what it was. 

As if on some very unfortunate cue, Nick appeared at the door, his face lighting up as he noticed that Monroe was awake. He gave Rosalee a short wave as he strode purposefully across the room before cupping Monroe’s head in one hand and leaning down to give him a long, thoughtful kiss. Monroe relished the moment but was slightly embarrassed that Rosalee was still there. As was she, apparently, “Not to interrupt...but, any luck?” she asked. 

Nick turned around and huffed, looking distinctly uncomfortable, “Well, who she is isn’t a mystery anymore. We traced the phone she was using to trace Monroe’s, and it led us back to Adalind’s. Oh, Monroe, here’s your now completely debugged phone back. Try to be more careful where you leave it.” 

“Adalind? Again?” Monroe asked, taking the phone that Nick had pulled out of his jeans’ pocket from him. He decided he’d worry more about what had happened with it later, “Are we ever going to get her out of our hair? I thought you told me you thought this had nothing to do with her?” 

“It doesn’t, exactly. At least, It wasn’t Adalind. It’s someone that’s related to her,” Nick said. “My lead on her apparently came from Adalind...” 

“How does that not involve Adalind?” Rosalee asked, frowning. 

“I think Adalind just wants me to catch her because of some kind of ...sibling rivalry,” Nick said, twitching his lips in slight amusement. “I really don’t think Adalind has any reason to manipulate me anymore since the whole mess with the key and the captain is behind us. That’s not to say I trust her. Believe me, I don’t. But it doesn’t really matter because I know that Anya, that’s the sister, was the one behind the museum and ...this...” 

Nick swallowed hard before he swept his hand over Monroe, looking deeply apologetic. 

“So I take it you’ll forgive me for standing you up at Dr. Lehrer’s, huh?” Monroe asked, in a strained attempt to get that dark look off Nick’s face. Nick relaxed slightly and nodded. Then a brief flicker of something uncharacteristically unreadable crossed his expression, so Monroe pressed, “Something I need to know?” 

“Yes... but not at the moment,” Nick said, looking thoughtful. Monroe sighed and shook his head, wondering _what now_. Nick watched him and smiled softly as he trailed his thumb down his cheek and through his beard. “It’s a good thing. But I think it’ll be better if I tell you at home.”

“Oh? When precisely do I get to, you know, go there?” Monroe asked, trying not to get too hopeful about leaving because he knew Nick and Rosalee wouldn’t just let him. However, he reflected briefly that while he ached everywhere, he didn’t think it was anything he was unable to take care of himself. Then, more importantly, there was a better than decent chance that he would be significantly warmer in his own bed than he currently was. 

“Well, there’s a good way to find that out,” Nick said before pressing the nurse call button, grinning at him. Then with a little more gravity and a devilish grin, he said, “Now, Monroe, I want you to come home, but please don’t rush it... tell them the truth about how you feel.” 

“Giving me some of my own medicine, huh?” Monroe asked, slightly annoyed by the oh- how-the-tables-have-turned look in Nick’s eyes, but glad that at least Nick was listening -- and was willing to tease him. 

“Yeah, what’s that like?” Nick asked smirking, still looking like he was enjoying this entirely too much. 

“Let’s just say it’s lucky for you that I can’t move my arm without ripping an IV out of it,” Monroe said. 

“If it helps, and it should, it’s really good advice,” Nick said as he leaned over to tousle his curls. “It’s really hard to be taken care of when other people don’t know the extent of what’s wrong.” 

*** 

“Do you need anything else?” Nick asked as he pulled back the covers on his side of the bed. He’d drove Monroe home from the hospital and gotten him settled in bed, and now despite it only being four in the afternoon, he was completely exhausted. 

He’d spent the past two days running himself ragged alternating between worrying about Monroe and actively trying to find the woman that had done this to him. 

He sighed as he looked at the sling on Monroe’s arm and cringed. Yet again, Monroe had been used like a pawn in some complicated chess game he wanted no part of but apparently couldn’t stop playing. He tried not to let that unravel him too much because there was nothing for it, and he knew it. 

“I think if you got me anything else, I wouldn’t be able to get off the bed,” Monroe mumbled as he pulled himself up from underneath three layers of blankets and propped himself against the enormous stack of pillows before picking up the tea and painkiller Nick had set on the nightstand. “However, you could tell me what you needed to tell me.” 

Nick smiled and reached for the drawer of his own nightstand and pulled out a small yellow envelope. Then he handed it to Monroe as he sat down next to him. “Open it.” 

“You went to the doctor...and she gave you _an envelope_?” Monroe asked, raising his eyebrows, as he worked on unsealing it with his free hand. It was slow going, but he batted Nick’s hand away when he offered to do it for him. 

“Well, I asked her to. Well, when you didn’t show up...“ Nick trailed off. He didn’t want to tell Monroe how much he wished he had been there for this; it wouldn’t be fair to do that to him. Besides, they were still going to do this together, and that was what really mattered. “I didn’t want to find out on my own.” 

“Find out wh...?” Monroe started to ask, but he stopped short as he pulled a little pink paper cut-out of an infant out of the envelope. He smiled broadly, “A girl. We’re having a girl.” 

“A girl,” Nick repeated, a warm fuzzy feeling spreading through him as he crawled into bed next to Monroe and curled up next to him. He was pleased beyond all measure -- Monroe was home and there, and they were going to have a daughter. It was what he’d been hoping for, in the sort of grand scheme of things -- perhaps not like this, perhaps not like this at all. But with the way his life was, he would take it and be as glad as he could for it. “What about that, huh?” 

“A girl,” Monroe repeated. He rolled carefully onto his side, moving blankets and pillows out of the way, before pulling Nick in for a celebratory kiss. “Yeah, how about that?” 

Then Monroe pulled Nick’s T-Shirt up and pressed a gentle, hesitant kiss to his abdomen before looking up at Nick’s eyes, asking if this was okay. Nick’s cheeks flushed slightly; it wasn’t as though Monroe hadn’t touched him there over the past three and a half months or anything, it just hadn’t been like this -- this delicate and tender. 

They had some sort of unspoken agreement that, yes, there was something growing inside of him. Something that would one day, hopefully, provide them with joy. But until then, it was kind of awkward and just not something that they needed to address when they were in the midst of roughly ripping the buttons from the other’s clothing. But this made it so much more real that he knew they couldn’t do that anymore. 

Nick nodded and then sighed contentedly as Monroe kneeled over him, hugging his injured arm closer to his chest, and continued to press soft kisses all the way down the now slightly protruding paunch of his belly, lightly tracing his index finger behind his lips. Usually Monroe’s hands were fast and rough against his skin, and Nick could feel the callouses built up from long hours of fiddling with clocks. This, however, was slow and sensual, and had a barely-there feeling that made his breath catch strangely. 

“Monroe...you shouldn’t do this...you’re going to hurt yourself,” Nick breathed out reluctantly. Monroe looked up and winked at him, as though that would make it less true, before starting to try to untie the drawstring on his sweatpants. But after a few unsuccessful attempts and a hiss of pain when his arm bumped against Nick’s knee, Nick rolled his eyes, and pushed him back as he sat up. “Okay, that settles it, you’re not doing this right now. Lie back down...”

*** 

The next morning, Nick gently shook Monroe awake, trying not to recoil in surprise when Monroe’s face morphed slightly. He reflected briefly that that was only a natural instinct after getting knocked out while walking to your car and subsequently tied to a fountain. He probably should have expected it. 

As he offered Monroe his medicine and the coffee he had made for him, he pursed his lips for a moment then asked, “So...on a scale of 1 to 10, how likely is it that someone will try to get to our daughter to get to us?” 

“11,” Monroe said without any hesitation. “Please tell me that this isn’t the first time this occurred to you. If it is, I think we might kind of have a problem.” 

“I really haven’t wanted to think about,” Nick admitted, shifting his weight uncomfortably. 

“But this happened, and now you can’t help it. Right. Glad I’m your first lesson in parenting. Well, anyway, I’ve, uh, put some serious thought into it,” Monroe said. “Now, like anyone, we can’t protect her from everything. But as to us specific stuff, we’ll have to do our best to make sure someone we trust is always watching her, especially when something particularly unto is going on -- so far, there’s us, Rosalee, and Hank, then Bud, if we’re desperate, they all fit the bill, then Juliette if we’re really, really desperate, since, she’s, you know, still not totally on board with the whole Wesen existing thing. We probably want to increase that list. It’s also probably for the best we don’t take her into the trailer for a good long while though that’s not really because I’m worried someone will take her from it.” 

“So your well thought out plan to protect our daughter is that she always has a babysitter?” Nick asked, giving Monroe a sideways glance. “Great.” 

“It sounds trivial when you put it like that, but really, it’s the best thing we can do,” Monroe said. “Then, when she’s older, we’ll just have to, you know, instill a general distrust of strangers...and your mother...in her.” 

“Well, as to the strangers, that I can handle that. When I was in uniform, I used to talk to groups of younger kids giving them the whole stay away from strangers spiel,” Nick said. Then shaking his head, “I’m not sure I find this comforting.” 

“You probably shouldn’t. We don’t exactly have the best situation for this, but we’re going to do our best,” Monroe said. “And, Nick, if you’re doubting that we can, you know, do this because of who you are, remember that you’re not the first Grimm to have children. You wouldn’t be here if you were.” 

“I suppose Aunt Marie didn’t do too horribly with me,” Nick said, thinking it over. Even before he had started living with his Aunt Marie, he had to have been raised in equally dangerous circumstances, and though retrospectively it seemed obvious, his parents’ ill explained car crash sticking out like a glaring red light, he never would have guessed it then. And he’d never felt like he personally was in danger, and, honestly, despite everything, he was still here. 

“Well, aside from the whole not telling you important things about your heritage bit, yeah not too shabby,” Monroe said. “And that worked out pretty well for me in the end, so I can’t really complain.” 

Nick smiled and kissed him, “Now, do you need anything before I head out? Keeping in mind that I really think you should stay in bed, and that Rosalee’s going to come check on you in a couple hours.” 

Monroe asked him to get a bag of books that he had put on the floor of their closet out, so Nick brought it out and set it down on his side of the bed before pulling out the contents. He laughed warmly; they were all parenting books. 

“I didn’t want to push them on you,” Monroe said, looking sheepish. “I didn’t think you were ready. There’s one in particular I wanted to look at right now though.” 

“Oh. Which one?” Nick asked. 

Monroe methodically spread the books apart --or, at least, it would have been methodical had he been using both hands -- before triumphantly holding up a book of baby names. 

“Yeah, okay. We’ll talk later,” Nick said as he headed back down the stairs, laughing as Monroe shouted after him for him to take his own medicine and to be careful driving in the snow. Even when he was taking care of Monroe, Monroe was still taking care of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this story is weirdly getting me through being in grad school and not living at home, so everyone that's reading this, know that I love you. I love you to pieces.


	6. Chapter 6

While still half-asleep, odd sounds emanating from the bathroom seeped their way into Nick’s dream. They slowly tugged him into consciousness, and then he bolted upright, and ignoring all that pesky advice he’d had about not standing up too fast, he ran down the hall, causing everything therein to seem slightly sideways. 

If the reapers didn’t get him first, pregnancy would be the death of him, Nick decided. 

“Monroe,” Nick half-shouted as he knelt down on the bathroom rug as though he were tying non-existent shoes as that was strangely supposed to help stop his head from spinning, “what’s wrong?” 

He rubbed at his forehead as the shower water abruptly stopped running. 

“Nothing,” Monroe said, peeking his head out from the shower curtain, looking embarrassed. Nick pressed his eyes closed and pinched at the bridge of his nose for a moment. This crazy, annoying pregnancy dizziness thing had him about ten seconds away from killing Monroe.

“Then why were you making that sound?... It sounded like you were... whimpering?” Nick said, staring at the floor, waiting for the spots in his vision to dissipate. 

“I...uh, the...water,” Monroe stammered. 

“Monroe, just tell me. I can’t understand your waffling right now,” Nick said. 

“I don’t think our hot water heater’s working,” Monroe said quickly, before ducking his head back behind the curtain. “All of the water is cold.” 

“All of the water’s cold? Okay... so we’ll call a plumber,” Nick said, feeling like that was a very obvious solution, which made him feel as though he was missing something, something major. Then what Monroe still wasn’t saying caught up with him, and his heart sank a little. “...Oh! ... Come on, get out of there! We’ll get you warmed up.”

Monroe didn’t move. 

“Monroe, staying in there isn’t going to help,” Nick said, pressing his eyes closed, taking a deep breath, and pulling himself up to standing. He decided he was just going to have to deal for a little while longer for Monroe’s sake. 

He pulled down a towel, pulled the shower curtain back and wrapped it around Monroe’s upper back and shoulders, “Come on.” 

As Nick’s fingers pressed into his back, Monroe slowly climbed over the ledge of the tub and wordlessly let Nick help him dry off before handing him his robe. 

Then Nick tried to guide him down to the kitchen, but halfway down the stairs, he had to stop and lean on the garland adorned rail for support, feeling a little like if he kept going, he was going to tumble down them. 

“Nick...?” Monroe asked. 

“I’m fine. Just, just a little dizzy,” Nick said. 

“You say that like I’m not supposed to be worried,” Monroe said, wrapping his arm around Nick’s waist. 

“We’ve been over this. It’s normal. It’s completely normal. Well, unless I faint, but that hasn’t happened,” Nick said, leaning into Monroe as they went the rest of the way downstairs. 

“Yeah, yet,” Monroe said, eying Nick skeptically. Nick didn’t argue because the way their lives went, Monroe, unfortunately, probably wasn’t wrong. But he really didn’t believe that this was the current issue at hand. 

“Tea or coffee?” Nick asked, trying to pull away from Monroe as they made their way into the kitchen. 

“Coffee, but I’ll make it. Sit,” Monroe said forcibly, pushing him into a chair despite several protests. “Hey, I’m doing this for me, and... okay, maybe, just a little bit for you. But, still, I’ll feel better if you stay right where you are.” 

Nick watched Monroe carefully as he sagged into the chair, refusing to admit that he almost instantly felt better. Then accepting that Monroe wasn’t letting him leave the kitchen table for anything, he decided he’d have to take a different approach to solving Monroe’s problems, “Are you okay? Actually, forget that. I know you aren’t, so skip ahead to telling me how you are.” 

Monroe shrugged noncommittally as he dug out fresh coffee grounds; then he eyed the kitchen sink warily and sighed deeply, “Dude, I can’t....I can’t be afraid of cold water. I just can’t.” 

“And you aren’t,” Nick said immediately. “Monroe, that was more than a month ago, and this is the first time something like this has happened. Tell me you haven’t touched cold water in all that time. I’ll be really impressed.” 

Monroe looked thoughtful as he reached into the cabinets to pull down mugs, “Yeah, I guess that’s true. But...” 

“But standing in cold water didn’t exactly bring up good memories,” Nick offered. 

“No, and the worst part is, I still don’t really know what happened, between that parking lot and the fountain,” Monroe said. “I really thought if I gave it some time something would come back to me, but I just remember waking up soaking wet and shivering. I guess it was just the suddenness of the whole situation, really. Like what just happened with the shower; the hot water just stopped. If you hadn’t shown up...well the first time...well, I don’t know what I would have done.” 

“Just be glad I did. I know I am. And when I get my hands on this woman, I’ll make her tell me what happened. Believe me,” Nick said, locking his eyes with Monroe as a promise. He knew he would too. 

He was still seething from when he’d found Monroe lolling helplessly against the fountain’s statue, looking like a half-drowned rat, surrounded by vulgar messages written in English and German in, mostly reddish brown chalk. 

More than a few nerves had been struck when he’d seen one about _their pup_ likely being a runt. He had no idea how she had known, and while he had been too concerned about Monroe in the moment to overthink it, that really worried him. 

“Filling in the blanks might help a little,” Monroe conceded as he brought the coffee over to the table. “Probably won’t fix our hot water heater though.” 

“Yeah, we should see if Bud can do it or knows someone who can,” Nick said. 

“Whenever he’s here, I’m getting his opinion on _Marie,_ ” Monroe said into his coffee, his eyes on the table. 

Although Nick was glad for the change in topic, he couldn’t resist rolling his eyes. Their stalemate on choosing a name for their daughter had become a daily discussion bordering on argument. 

The issue, in a nutshell, was that Nick wanted to name her after his aunt. Understandably, Monroe, who had no attachment to her and had not had any particularly pleasant encounters with her, did not. 

Nick had told Monroe he’d be happy to reconsider if he came up with something more suitable. But, unfortunately, Monroe had a bad habit of suggesting names outdated enough to make Nick cringe. Most recently: Maude, Mildred, and Mabel. 

They also all seemed to start with M. 

Not that Marie didn’t, but, honestly, Nick wasn’t sure whether or not Monroe was kidding.

“I thought we were keeping other people out of this?” Nick said. He knew that mostly that had meant Rosalee and Hank, but that was really because, aside from Renard, no one else knew. And Nick didn’t have any particular inclination to ask the Captain for naming advice as he felt that telling him about the pregnancy itself had been awkward enough. 

“Well, I wasn’t actually planning on telling Bud you were pregnant,” Monroe said. “And I really can’t see it coming up casually.” 

“I’m not entirely convinced it’s a secret,” Nick said, glancing down at his more obviously protruding stomach. Even though he’d recently taken to wearing Monroe’s old sweaters, which usually covered him up pretty thoroughly, it was getting harder, though, fortunately, not yet impossible, to hide. He knew that it was unlikely that anyone would draw a conclusion other than that he’d put on a few extra pounds a little too quickly, but it still made him extremely uncomfortable and self-conscious. 

“Well, I think it’s safe to say that it is, and one that’s safe with me. Well, me and Mabel, that is,” Monroe said, gently poking Nick’s stomach with his index finger. “Isn’t that right Mabel?” 

Nick raised his eyes at him before grimacing as Definitely-Not-Mabel began to do something akin to cartwheels in his stomach, “I think she’s protesting as much as I am. You really need to find some more current names, man. Or, at least, names that start with another letter of the alphabet. They had those in the 18th century, didn’t they?” 

Monroe flexed his hand and rested it over Nick’s abdomen, as he’d learned from past experience that the pressure and warmth provided Nick some small relief from the brief spell of pain and nausea that the baby’s movement caused. 

Then, mostly ignoring what Nick had said, he replied,“I still don’t see what’s wrong with Martha.”

“Other than it’s outdated, nothing really,” Nick said, placing his hand on top of Monroe’s for the slight increase in pressure. “But I don’t like it. And, we agreed, we both have to like it.” 

“Well, you haven’t really suggested anything other than Marie,” Monroe said. “And we both know I’m not happy with it.” 

“I know. I know,” Nick said because he really hadn’t. He had suggested Rose because it was a diminutive of Rosalee, but it had been nixed for exactly the same reason. Similar deductions had been made for Julie. 

Nick had to admit that while Monroe’s ideas were outdated, his lacked creativity. 

“We can muse on it together tonight. As long as nothing springs up, I could probably swing leaving early,” Nick said. 

*** 

After making sure that Nick got off to work okay, instead of going about doing his own, Monroe found himself alternating between watching his model train set running and frowning over the book of baby names. He knew if he went back to his clocks, his mind would inevitably drift back to the cold water. Therefore, he’d decided to continue his quest to find the one name that he believed would stand out above all of the others as unequivocally right for their daughter. 

While he was fond of older names and the letter M, he’d mostly been offering his suggestions to stall. He figured that this way, when he finally offered something feasible, Nick would be thrown off enough to actually consider it. Otherwise, he felt certain, whether he wanted it or not, he was going to have a daughter named after a Grimm that wasn’t Nick. And, quite frankly, that violated more Wesen tradition than even he was comfortable with. 

He was giving _Laura_ and _Lauren_ some consideration when there was a knock on the door. 

“Bud, I thought you said it would be a few hours,” Monroe said as he unlatched the lock and pulled the door open. It was Rosalee. “You’re not, Bud.” 

“No, I’m not, which you would have known if you’d looked,” Rosalee said. Her tone implying that someone who had been kidnapped not all that long ago really ought to have realized this. He didn’t disagree, but what could he do? The door was already open. “Now, Nick told me he was going to bring my glass casserole dish back two weeks ago, and unless he took it to the precinct with him, I’m betting it’s still in your kitchen.” 

“And you needed to come get it at ten in the morning on a Tuesday?” Monroe asked as he followed her into the kitchen. 

Rosalee opened the two cabinets that she knew the dish was likely to be. “When my mom comes into town this weekend, I was going to make her the same lasagna I made you guys.” 

“Weren’t you asking me about a pasta recipe for this occasion less than a week ago?” Monroe said. “Change your mind?” 

Monroe watched as she continued rifling through his pots and pans, puzzled. He really didn’t mind that Rosalee was there; he simply didn’t understand why she was. 

Even though the Spice Shop ran on whatever hours Rosalee set, this was about the time she was normally opening up. And, while he’d seen a great variety of things being made in that shop, lasagna had never been one of them. 

Therefore, looking for the dish seemed to be some kind of pretext. He found this odd since Rosalee was usually so forthright. Fortunately, this seemed to be bothering her as well. She looked almost relieved at Monroe’s suspicion, “No, not really. I thought it was as good an excuse as any, though. Nick told me about the shower.”

“And he wanted you to check on me?” Monroe said. Rosalee nodded. “Well, that’s sweet of you guys, I guess. But I’m alright, really.” 

As Rosalee did manage to find her dish, Monroe continued, “Besides, Nick’s the one that’s been as dizzy as a spinning top more often than not lately.” 

He hoped this was hyperbole. Nick claimed it wasn’t ever that bad, and he powered through reasonably well. However, that didn’t stop Monroe from being exasperated that, seemingly, nothing short of complete collapse would convince Nick that it was something he needed to take seriously. Rosalee rested her hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure between the two of us and Hank, we can talk some sense into him.” 

As she did, his cell phone started to ring. He pulled it out of his pocket and said, “It’s Hank. He’s probably calling to tell me to bring smelling salts.” 

Monroe was immediately filled with a strong, pervasive desire to eat his words as Hank explained he should probably come get a not entirely conscious Nick before an EMT had a chance to check on him. "Oh, my god. Don't tell me he actually fainted." 

“Well, he didn’t faint so much as get pistol whipped,” Hank said. “By Anya, that woman that kidnapped you. We finally managed to track her down, and as you can probably imagine, Nick was livid. Not that I wasn’t...but anyway, the guy that gave us information about the first museum heist, Nick managed to get a tip out of... about her possibly attempting another one at a different museum. We went to check it out, and she was there. When Nick saw her, I think he was out for blood, but... well, the short version is she got to him first.” 

“So she got away?” Monroe asked, a cold knot of dread forming in his chest. He’d tried pushing most of his worries about her coming after either of them to the back of his mind. He’d thought he’d served his purpose already, and he had trusted Nick’s Grimm skills to stop her from being a threat to him to begin with. Neither of these rationales made sense to him at the moment. 

Rosalee seemed to sense this. She wrapped her arms around Monroe’s torso as he kept listening to Hank. 

“Oh, no. She didn’t see me,” Hank said. “We’ve got her in handcuffs. She’s not admitting to the heist or kidnapping you, but she did assault an officer of the law so that’s plenty to keep her in holding at the precinct, not that we don’t have the evidence. Anyway, unfortunately, since the museum’s a crime scene, I can’t get out of here, and the guys working with her got into a fight of their own and damn near killed one another, so we had to call the EMTs.” 

“Okay. I’m on my way,” Monroe said. 

“I’m coming too,” Rosalee said, close enough to the phone that Hank would hear. 

Once they were at the museum, it was immediately apparent that they hadn’t beat the EMTs there. Monroe wasn’t sure what he’d expected from running races with ambulances. 

Nevertheless, thinking that finding Nick was probably still for the best, they headed for the museum entrance. Fortunately, since the museum was roughly surrounded by the Portland PD, Sergeant Wu recognized Monroe -- though Monroe had the impression that he thought he was Nick’s CI or something of the kind -- but, well, whatever got him through the door. Wu didn’t recognize Rosalee, though, so, with a contemplative frown, she headed back to the car. 

Once inside, Monroe found Nick, Hank, and a terrified looking EMT standing in a small atrium off the museum’s main lobby. 

Hank was doing his best to help Nick, who didn’t seem to be providing much help of his own, to sit back down on the fold out chair sitting next to the wall. Nick seemed to be mumbling something along the lines of, “Won’t stop woging.” 

Monroe glanced back to the EMT, who, despite having backed up as close to the wall as he possibly could, was still trying to go farther. It didn’t take much for Monroe to guess he was Wesen -- an eisbiber, by the smell of it. 

Monroe glanced between him and Nick once more, unsure what an incapacitated, pregnant Grimm was likely to do to a skittish Eisbiber. He decided it was probably best to assuage the poor guy’s fears anyway. “You know, I was a little wary myself the first time I met him, but I promise, Nick’s not going to hurt you. He’s _really_ not that kind of Grimm. And honestly, he could probably do with a little blend of traditional and Wesen medical know-how at the moment.” 

Although he didn’t move away from the wall, the guy relaxed slightly. 

“And, really, Nick’s friends with another Eisbiber,” Monroe offered as further evidence of Nick’s goodwill towards the Wesen community. Then his thoughts completely derailed to things that were not currently relevant. “Oh god, I forgot all about Bud coming over. He’s probably going to get there before we get back... not that it matters at the moment.” 

“Wait, Bud Wurstner?” The EMT asked. 

“Uh, yeah,” Monroe said. “You know him?” 

“He lives down the street from me,” he said. Then waving his hand towards Nick, “Hey, is ...is he the Grimm that Bud brought to an Eisbiber council meeting? I was working during it, but I heard all about it. But I mean, I guess he would have to be, wouldn’t he? How else would you know Bud? Of course, that would mean, you’re the Blutbad he’s dating.” 

“Oh geez, don’t start backing up against the wall again,” Monroe said. “I’m not going to hurt you either. Relax.” 

“Hey, Monroe, a little help?” Hank said.

Monroe glanced back to see that Hank was still struggling to get Nick back to the chair. It seemed that Nick was trying to help just enough that it was negating everything that Hank was trying to do. 

“Hank, no. He’ll woge too,” Nick said as he covered his eyes with his hand and leaned back against the wall. 

“If you close your eyes, you won’t be able to see it will you?” Hank asked. Nick gave a disgruntled grunt of affirmation. 

“Sorry, Monroe, ever since Paul, your new EMT buddy over there, came over, Nick’s been telling me he won’t stop woging. Best I can figure is that’s it’s making him dizzy,” Hank said. 

Monroe nodded as he contemplated that. Then he helped Hank get Nick, who had his eyes firmly closed sit back on the chair. 

As they did, Paul cautiously approached them with his medkit. 

“Nick, I guess keep your eyes closed. If it’s really okay with you, I’m going to look you over,” Paul said, as he started warily and carefully running his fingers over Nick’s hairline. When Nick gave him a thumbs up, he pulled out his stethoscope. 

“Be prepared for the unexpected,” Monroe said quickly. “Grimms have two heartbeats.” 

“Huh? That’s a Grimm myth I’ve not heard,” Paul said, placing the stethoscope to Nick’s chest. “It’s not true is it?” 

“Well, no, but it was worth a shot. It’s less weird than the truth,” Monroe said. 

“He’s pregnant, isn’t he?” Paul asked, listening to Nick’s chest, looking perplexed. 

Monroe nodded. 

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t share,” Nick said, wincing. Monroe was getting the impression that Nick didn’t really want to talk. 

“You know that doctor-patient confidentiality thing? It extends to us lowly EMTs,” Paul said, clearly relaxing into doing his job, as he started taking Nick’s blood pressure. Hank squeezed Nick’s hand as he grimaced against the blood pressure cuff being pumped. Paul, frowned over the blood pressure dial, before turning back to Monroe, “Are there any other medical conditions I should know about?” 

“Well, I don’t think this counts as a condition, but he’s been dizzy really frequently over the past, I want to say, two weeks,” Monroe said. 

“Hmm,” Paul murmured. “Nick, was your partner right before, was my woge making you dizzy?” 

Nick gave him another thumbs up. 

“Is talking making you dizzy?” Paul asked. 

“Everything is,” Nick admitted. After this, Paul asked Nick and Monroe about a dozen questions about the dizzy spells he’d been having. Then he called Dr. Lehrer. 

Hank, meanwhile, went to find Rosalee so she didn’t have to sit in the car in the cold or leave its engine running. 

“Okay. Well, the good news is, I think that’s going to be a temporary problem. The bad news is there’s not much I can do to help in the immediate,” Paul said. “Now, if it weren’t for the, uh, unusual circumstances, I’d say we should probably take you to the hospital and keep you there overnight because you’re kind of worrying me. But since I don’t think that’s an option...” 

Monroe solemnly shook his head. 

“...I’m having Dr. Lehrer write two prescriptions for you. One for high strength Tylenol and one for a low dose blood pressure maintenance medication. Our best guess is that the reason you are so dizzy right now is because having a concussion is exacerbating the symptoms of a preexisting problem, which is that you have high blood pressure. It’s not unusual for that to happen towards the end of a pregnancy, and hopefully, it will go back to normal after the baby’s born. But Dr. Lehrer will talk to you about all of this. I’ll get you some Tylenol now, though. Hopefully it’ll help.” 

“Other than that, all I can tell you to do is rest,” Paul continued. “And Monroe, it’s Monroe, right? Wake him up every couple hours and make sure he can answer a few basic questions.”

“I know the drill,” Monroe said. “This, sadly, is not his first concussion. Might be the worst, though.” 

“I’m not arguing with that,” Nick said as he placed both his hands over his eyes and forehead and leaned forward. 

“And if he can’t, call me,” Paul said, as he handed Monroe a slip of paper with his cell phone number written on it. “I’m not the only Wesen staff member at the hospital. It might take some doing, but we could work something out.” 

When Hank and Rosalee reappeared, with their help, Monroe managed to get Nick back to the car. It was no easy task since Nick was wobbly on his feet and didn’t want to open his eyes, and none of them thought carrying him was a particularly good idea. 

Once there, after some brief discussion of logistics, Rosalee suggested that she get the prescriptions and drive Nick’s truck back to their house, while Hank sat in the backseat of the Volkswagen with Nick, since he was the only one currently incapable of making him more dizzy than he already was. 

Monroe could not have been more relieved when Nick, who had fallen asleep during the drive, looked at him without flinching when they got back to the house. 

He was still unsteady on his feet though, so it worked out to their advantage that Bud got there at about the same time that they did. Monroe, realizing that he didn’t really want to be home alone with only a sleeping Nick for company, still showed Bud where the hot water heater was before deciding to work on making some coconut ginger soup. 

To his surprise, Hank and Rosalee were both sitting at the kitchen table when he came back upstairs. 

“I need to get back to the precinct right now, but I’ll stop back when I have all the paperwork taken care of,” Hank said. “Rosalee’s staying here.” 

His firm tone didn’t leave room for argument. 

Once he was out the door, Monroe asked, “Did you tell him about the shower?” 

“I didn’t need to,” Rosalee said. “We both know you’re shook up, about Nick, about Anya. We’ll stick around as long as you need us to. I’ll stay the night if you want.”

Monroe found he couldn't articulate, in the moment, how thankful he was for Hank and Rosalee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that I'm not sorry that I can't seem to leave poor Nick alone. I'd tell you it gets better from here...but it so doesn't...


	7. Chapter 7

“Nick,” Monroe whispered as he rested his hand on Nick’s shoulder. When Nick’s eyes fluttered, he said, “I’m going to bed. Did you want to stay on the couch or come up with me?” 

“Well, I’d rather sleep upstairs, but I really don’t want to tempt fate with the steps,” Nick said, as he half attempted to sit up, looked like he’d thought better of it and sank back down. “Can you turn the TV off though? I can’t find the remote.”

“I can, but last time you slept down here, you said it drowned out the clocks,” Monroe said. 

“Why don’t you turn the clocks off too?” Nick mumbled, running his hand over his eyes. He was joking, or meant to be, but there was an edge to it. They clearly were really bothering him. 

Monroe squeezed his shoulder, “I’m sorry, Nick, but even if I wanted to spend the next three hours unwinding my clocks, I’m pretty sure that would be just as likely to keep you up.”

“It would take the long?” Nick asked. Then he waved his hand dismissively, “Forget I asked. Just leave the TV on. But can you change the channel at least? Whatever’s on right now, it’s really loud.” 

“I would imagine,” Monroe said, looking over to the screen and quickly surmising that it was an action movie with more action than plot. 

He started flipping channels, trying to find something that wouldn’t be too noisy but also be less than likely to draw Nick in, as the poor guy really needed to get some actual rest. 

“You don’t like ballet, do you?” Monroe asked. 

“I’ve never really watched any,” Nick said. 

“I’m taking that as a no. So, you can not watch this then,” Monroe said, leaving a local broadcast of a production of _The Nutcracker_ on. 

Nick blinked at the TV, “ _The Nutcracker_ , really? Christmas was two weeks ago.” 

“It’s probably a twelfth day of Christmas thing. And, hey, they don’t usually record stuff like this. You ought to appreciate it. But since you aren’t going to appreciate the surreal world little Clara finds herself in, appreciate that Tchaikovsky is probably the perfect thing to fall asleep to. And on that note,” Monroe said as he started to lean down to kiss Nick goodnight. 

Nick held his hand up to stop him, looking contemplative. 

“Clara?” He mumbled drowsily, absently running his index finger along his abdomen. “I like Clara.” 

Monroe was initially struck by the profoundly inexplicable rightness he had been hoping would come with a name, despite the complete lack of method in its choosing. So, although he tried to really think it over instead of going with his gut reaction that it was ‘the one,’ he responded almost immediately. “So do I. I like Clara a lot actually.” 

Then, thinking back to studying the ballet quite some time ago, something else occurred to him, that convinced him he was right to go with his gut. “And, you know what, come to think of it, in the original story that the ballet’s based on, the little girl is named Marie.”

“Really? That’s some coincidence, huh?” Nick said. “Strange that they would change the name, though. Why would they do that?” 

“No idea. Maybe someone had a terrifying aunt,” Monroe said. Nick swatted at Monroe’s knee. 

Monroe ducked his hand before saying, “You know, Nick, when you said you were going to try to leave work early for a name discussion, this wasn’t really what I had in mind. I was kind of picturing us going out to dinner.” 

Nick laughed. Then he asked, “So watching _The Nutcracker_ wasn’t a plan all along?” 

Monroe chuckled as he successfully leaned down to kiss Nick. “If it was, it was the worst plan I ever had. Especially since I’m not even going to watch it.” 

“True,” Nick mumbled, rolling into the couch. 

“Rosalee’s staying in the guest bedroom, so we’ll both be upstairs, call us if you need anything,” Monroe said. “And, I mean that literally, your phone’s on the side table.” 

“Thanks. Goodnight, Monroe,” Nick said, and Monroe headed upstairs. 

After the day he’d had, Monroe had his own troubles falling asleep. His thoughts a jumble of tangled worries that he couldn’t quite sort out. He stared at the ceiling, wondering if and when things were going to look up. 

He currently had his sights on after their little girl was born. Even though she was bound to make their lives more difficult, he imagined she would also make them more fulfilling. 

It would certainly help out Nick, who was going through far too much right now. Monroe wished there was something, anything that he could do to help Nick get through this. Sure, he was there, and he imagined that counted for something. But it just never felt like enough. 

Powerless to do anything about this feeling, his weariness eventually overwhelmed his worries, and he began drifting off. 

He still wasn’t quite asleep when his phone vibrated. And because he knew his life, he knew, without looking, it had to be Nick. He wasn’t really ready for another crisis. But trying to keep a level head anyway, he ran his hand over his face as he pulled himself up, preparing to wake Rosalee up and drag Nick to the hospital if he had to. He still had Paul’s number tucked in his wallet. 

He rushed down the stairs only to find Nick sitting on the floor against the couch, with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and his eyes transfixed on the television. 

As Monroe approached him, he didn’t look up. 

“Nick?” Monroe asked. 

“Monroe?” Nick asked, sounding confused. Then he seemed to realize that Monroe thought something was wrong. “I’m sorry, Monroe. It was just a text. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“Well, you did,” Monroe said, not in the least bit amused. However, he had to concede that he’d jumped to conclusions without actually checking what Nick’s message had been. So, he picked up his phone and opened his text. 

_I’ll deny it in the morning or blame my concussion, but The Nutcracker, man...it’s something else_

Monroe raised his eyes at that before sitting down on the floor next to Nick. As he did, he noticed that there were tear tracks running along Nick’s cheeks. He wasn’t crying now, but he clearly had been before. 

“You sure you’re alright?” Monroe asked. Nick put a finger to his lips and pointed back at the television. The ballet, which had to have been going on for nearly three hours was almost over. Monroe figured since he was already up, he might as well watch the rest. 

As it drew to a close, Nick, who’s head was now lolling against Monroe’s shoulder, whispered, “Clara started seeing things, and no one would believe her. But it was all real.” 

_Oh_. Well, that explained Nick’s sudden emotional attachment to the ballet. 

“And you knew a clockmaker gave her the nutcracker doll to begin with, didn’t you? Nick asked. 

“Of course I did,” Monroe said. It was one of the things that had made studying the ballet appealing. “But I didn’t expect you to pay attention to any of this, and you really shouldn’t have. You need to get some actual sleep.” 

When Nick didn’t respond, Monroe realized that he had chosen to follow his advice in the least helpful way possible. “But, Dude, not on top of me. Come on, if you can make it through a three hour ballet, I think there’s a chance you can handle the stairs.” 

Nick let Monroe help him up, and gradually, they made it up to their room. 

The next morning, Monroe was sitting at his workbench, starting a new project, listening to the comforting sounds of Rosalee and Nick pushing chairs across the linoleum and clinking dishes against the sink. 

“I’m heading for the Spice Shop. You’re not going to work are you?” Rosalee asked. 

“No. Hank told the Captain I wasn’t allowed within in a hundred yards of the precinct until the day after tomorrow, at the earliest,” Nick said ruefully. “The Captain agreed.” 

“That’s probably for the best. You still look a little out of it,” Rosalee said. “Maybe you can spend your time convincing Monroe it’s time to take these decorations down.” 

Nick laughed. “Well, I probably should, but I feel bad because we both know that he won’t be able to get away with all of this next year. It would be asking for trouble.” 

“And his clocks won’t be?” Rosalee asked. 

“I don’t know what to say about that,” Nick said. “I’m almost afraid to bring it up. Of course, I probably just did since he’s probably listening to us.” 

“That’s my cue to leave then," Rosalee said. “Good luck.” 

Monroe heard the door click shut behind Rosalee, and a minute later, Nick was leaning over him, chewing on an apple that was, at this point, mostly core. 

“So...,” Nick said. “What are you working on?” 

“That is a secret and a surprise,” Monroe said, wincing as Nick reached a sticky, apple covered hand towards his wood carving. Thankfully, he stopped just short of actually touching it. “And, yeah, I know. I need to take my clocks down. I’ll put them in storage or something.” 

“Not all of them,” Nick said, throwing his apple core into the garbage can. “And probably not for a couple of months. I don’t think it’ll be a problem until Clara learns how to crawl, maybe not until she learns how to walk.” 

“Okay, not all of them, just the ones that might get knocked over,” Monroe said. He had always known it was going to come to this, after all. “Well, since you’re here anyway, why don’t you help me determine what needs to be taken out of the living room.” 

“You mean aside from the Christmas tree?” Nick asked, smirking. 

He might have looked more put upon about that remark if the fact that Nick had referred to their daughter by name hadn’t just caught up to him. 

“So Clara then?” Monroe asked. 

“I’m kind of set on it,” Nick said, placing his hands on Monroe’s shoulders. “So tell me now if you don’t like it.” 

“Clara then,” Monroe agreed. 

XXX 

“Do you have any idea how much value that thing is going to have?” Anya asked, awkwardly waving one handcuffed hand past Nick’s abdomen as her chin rested on the other. 

Nick sensed as he continued questioning her that Hank was right. He was too close to this to be the one doing the interrogation. But he’d point blank refused to be on the other side of the plexi-glass when he could get the full story out of her. He wanted it, and more importantly, Monroe needed it. 

Consequently, even though his blood was boiling beneath his skin, he was doing his utmost to sit calmly on the other side of the table. Then, although he was unsure whether they were more worried about him attacking her or vice versa, Hank and Renard had both insisted that he keep his chair a reasonable distance from the table. 

They were also watching. 

He didn’t blame them, really. She’d been a difficult-to-track-down nuisance even before she’d interfered with his personal life. Then she’d hurt Monroe. That alone made him angry enough to want revenge, but then she’d come after him. Normally that wouldn’t have been something particularly rage inducing. He was a detective. It happened. 

But right now, loathe as he was to admit it, he was more vulnerable than he’d ever been before. And while she could have injured him much more severely than she had, much more importantly, she could have done the same to Clara. 

When Nick didn’t reply, she continued, her eyes twinkling with mischief, “You don’t, do you?” 

“Do you have a point?” Nick asked, doing his best to sound utterly bored by her implication. She didn’t need to know that trying not to wonder how much a half-Grimm, half-Blutbad child, dead or alive, would be worth to the non-wieder Wesen community was a matter that kept him up a night. 

“Only that we wouldn’t be doing this little dance if you did,” Anya said. “I wouldn’t have needed to interfere, and I certainly wouldn’t be here.” 

“You’re going to need to be more specific. You’ve interfered with a lot of things,” Nick said. 

“More than I think you realize, detective,” Anya said coyly, her eyes flickering suggestively towards his abdomen. “Certain things lack the probability of being a coincidence? Don’t you agree?” 

“Well, I don’t think it was a coincidence that we traced your phone back to Monroe’s the day I found him tied to that fountain,” Nick said. “I would say that neatly ties you to the crime.” 

“ _A_ fountain? This fountain, does it have some special significance for you?” Anya asked. 

“It is the first place I should have caught you,” Nick said, trying his best to ignore her continued insinuation. There was a part of him that wanted to rise to the bait, but the more rational part of him said that would be foolish. Granted, that part of him was steadily waning. 

“Had your thoughts clouded, then, detective? I believe that would have made your priorities simply slither away,” Anya said, wriggling both hands, and consequently the cuffs, forward. 

Watching her hands, something in Nick snapped. 

Anger washed over him in violent waves as he let himself understand what she’d been implying. 

The drug. The snake. The fountain. 

It had all been her. 

He was across the room with his hands around her neck before he had time to think. 

His grip tightened, and he could feel her struggling to breathe beneath his hands. 

Fortunately for Anya, the baby took this as an opportune time to kick and kick hard, knocking Nick back to the reality that he could not take revenge in the precinct’s interrogation room, no matter how much he might like to. His grip on Anya had loosened entirely before Renard’s found his shoulders.

He let Renard steer him out the door without a word. 

“Nick,” Renard said. 

“You can’t protect me from something like that. I know,” Nick said, staring down at the tile. 

“Nick, look at me,” Renard said. Nick forced his gaze upwards. “Just promise me you aren’t going to try to go back in there. I can’t let you listen to Hank finishing this up if you can’t.” 

Nick clenched his fists at his sides and looked back in the interrogation room where Hank was sitting down across from Anya. 

“Yes, sir,” Nick said, locking his eyes with Renard’s. Then, as he let his focus return to the other side of the plexiglass, Renard’s hands came to rest on his shoulders. He relaxed into the strong, steady hold, letting himself believe it would stop him from doing anything else rash. 

Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on the way he looked at it, that hold held no power over Hank. 

After Hank had asked Anya a few leading questions, her need to have her plan admired clearly won over any desire she’d ever held of leaving the precinct’s holding cell again. She began spilling the entire story, speaking to her audience on both sides of the glass, making it clear her goal was to get under Nick and Renard’s skin as much as Hank’s. 

And Nick had to admit, it was working. He had tried to escape from Renard’s tight clasp as she revealed that kidnapping Monroe had been part of a larger plan to get inside their house to plant a bug so that she could spy on them. 

“Adalind, my misguided little sister, had the right idea,” Anya said. “Babies, disgusting little rugrats that they are, are worth something. She simply went about it all wrong. You never do something yourself that can be done by someone else. And if it works against them, even better. So, when your partner started interfering with my harmless little museum heist, I decided he could be part of an even more lucrative chemistry lesson. Lucky for me his little wolf goes with him almost everywhere. Luring the two of them to that fountain was almost child’s play.” 

Renard’s grip automatically tightened on Nick. He whispered low and warning, “Don’t let her get to you more than she already has.” 

“Don’t let her get to you either,” Nick said back as Renard’s nails dug into his shoulders. Renard nodded. 

“Of course, your partner wasn’t doing his part. All he had to do was keep healthy so that little runt would too. She’ll be worth more that way, you know.” 

Hank glared at her. “You’re talking about selling a child. I wouldn’t be comfortable with that no matter whose child it was going to be. But it so happens that it’s my partner’s. Just see what happens if you keep acting like you can put a price on her.” 

Anya smiled devilishly at Hank, and Renard’s grip on Nick loosened. 

“He hasn’t done anything,” Nick said, carefully leaving out _yet_. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want Hank to do something. 

Renard placed one hand on the doorknob and left the other on Nick’s back. “Hank’s grip on control when he takes things personally isn’t all that much better than yours.” 

Since he’d just assaulted her himself, Nick thought it best he didn’t say anything else. 

After a slight hesitation, Renard pulled his hand away from Nick and strode purposefully into the interrogation room. “So, you knocked my detective unconscious in order to make sure he received medical attention?” 

Anya’s wide eyes suggested she hadn’t been expecting such a blunt accusation. 

“Well, even if you didn’t, we now officially have a confession from you on conspiracy to rob a museum, kidnapping, and involvement in human trafficking,” Renard said, harshly pulling Anya off her chair. “Hank, take Nick back to his desk. I’m taking her back to holding.” 

“Hey, man, are you okay?” Hank said as he stepped outside. 

“I...I’m not sure,” Nick said. He knew he was still angry, but not angry enough to try to follow Renard. He wanted to be glad that that Anya had, seemingly, sealed her own fate; however, past experience told him that with the Schade women, it was best not to assume anything. That left him wary of what could be coming. 

“Well, like the Captain said, we ought to go back to our desks. Come on,” Hank said, clapping his hand on Nick’s shoulder. Nick followed him, ready to collapse over his desk. 

However, the fact that Monroe was sitting in his chair made that significantly more challenging. 

“Hey, I didn’t want to stick my nose in the interrogation or anything. But I wanted to know how it went. And I brought lunch,” Monroe said, gesturing to a bag from a local Chinese take-out. Then he dropped his voice, “And your medicine.” 

“All of it?” Nick asked. He could have sworn he’d taken it, but he’d been stressing out about interrogating Anya so much that he really couldn’t remember. 

“Just the Fluoxetine. You forgot to put it in the pill container,” Monroe whispered. “I’m sure it will go great with your Lo Mein.” 

“Yeah, sure. Hey, do you mind if we go outside to eat?” Nick asked. He wanted and needed to tell Monroe everything that had just transpired, but he didn’t want to do it in the middle of the precinct. 

“Uh, yeah. It’s the middle of January. It’s snowing. And...” Monroe trailed off as his gaze fell to Nick’s abdomen. 

“Nick, go home,” Hank said. Nick started to protest, and Hank put his hand up. “I don’t want to hear anything you have to say. You two need to talk about what just happened, and you can’t do it here. And you need to be at your house when someone shows up to sweep for bugs. So get out of here.” 

Once they were in the car, Monroe turned to Nick, “I’m sorry we keep kicking you out of work. At least you aren’t hurt this time.” 

“It’s probably just as well. Hank and Renard haven’t made good on their threat to give me all of the precinct’s backed up paperwork just yet, but there was a pile of paper I swear I’ve never seen before on my desk this morning,” Nick said. “It’s going to be a miserably long, and boring month.” 

"Month and half," Monroe said. 

"Don't remind me," Nick said. 

“And, well, now that you’ve said that, you’d better hope so,” Monroe said. “That’s like the ultimate jinx.” 

“I’m a man that is pregnant with a child that is going to be half Blutbad and half Grimm. I think that’s the ultimate jinx,” Nick said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [I did not make stuff up about The Nutcracker. Really.](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Nutcracker_and_the_Mouse_King)
> 
> Fluoxetine is generic Prozac, which is an anti-depressant. 
> 
> And, since I put off dealing with her existence long enough, I really hope you guys enjoyed Anya.


	8. Chapter 8

Much to Monroe and Nick’s surprise, the rest of January and most of February passed almost entirely without incident, well, barring Monroe spending the better half of a week avoiding Nick so that he wouldn’t catch the cold he had. 

Therefore, even though Monroe had sensed that they were in the calm of the storm, as it were, he wasn’t quite prepared for things to come to a head the way that they did. But, just as always, he weathered it the best he could. 

Nick was meant to have his scheduled C-Section the Thursday after next; there was even a cryptic, to the uninformed, letter C taking up the space for the entire day on the calendar on their refrigerator. However, in the middle of the night on Monday, Nick urgently shook Monroe awake telling him that he thought he was having contractions, a shadow of fear cast across his eyes, his unspoken worries mirrored in Monroe’s eyes. 

Although they had been told that this was a possibility, Monroe found that he couldn’t help freaking out just a little. Or maybe a lot.

“Oh God... Okay. Call Dr. Lehrer,” Monroe said as he pressed Nick’s cell phone into his hand. “I’m putting on pants, and then we’ll go. Don’t worry about changing.”

Nick looked like he was going to protest, on what grounds, Monroe had no idea. But after opening his mouth and seeming to think better of it, he wandered into the hallway with the phone pressed against his ear.

Twenty minutes later, Monroe was trying to keep calm, cool, and collected, for Nick’s sake, and just get him to Dr. Lehrer’s clinic as quickly as possible. Despite this, he was now driving down the freeway in an erratic state of panic.

Nick kept telling him to slow down, but the edge of pain in his voice only made Monroe want to go faster. But he was now wishing he had listened, as he found that the flashing red and blue lights that were now blinking through the rearview mirror of his Volkswagen were doing nothing to quell his anxiety.

“Just pull over,” Nick said, clutching at his abdomen, his face pinched with vague signs of pain and discomfort. “I can try and show them my badge. We have time... probably.”

“You have no idea if that’s true. Not to mention, you don’t even have your badge,” Monroe pointed out as they’d left the house in far too much of a hurry for that. He was reluctant to follow Nick’s instructions since their concept of time and that of the state highway patrol might differ drastically. He sighed in frustration thinking that if they were in a movie from the fifties and Nick were a woman, not only would they get to the hospital in time, a police escort would have been what made sure of it.

But realizing that unless he actually wanted the police to follow them to the Wesen clinic, he was going to have to give up the ghost, Monroe reluctantly came to a stop on the side of the freeway. Nick moaned piteously as he slid into the passenger side door as he reached for Monroe’s registration.

Monroe was torn between wanting to yell at Nick for doing things he shouldn’t be doing, which at the moment he deemed anything other than sitting still, or pulling him close because he just wanted this whole ordeal to be over for him. However, he was currently incapable of doing either because there was a cocky-looking, young female officer peering into his window asking if he knew just how fast he was going.

Before Monroe had a chance to reply, Nick, who had apparently lost his mind, leaned over the center console and lightly batted his eyes at the woman. “Miss, Monroe here is taking me to the hospital. Now, I’m a detective for the Portland PD, and right now, I’m playing the part of the good cop. It’s late, and I’m sure you’d rather head home than write a last minute ticket. I’m sure your shift’s almost over.” He gave the digital clock on the dashboard a brief glance as if to confirm this while the woman nodded along, looking vaguely annoyed. Then he switched tacks, “Now, if you don’t let us go, my partner is going to play the part of the bad cop.”

He winked at Monroe, a gesture which mostly lost its effect as another contraction forced his eyes closed, and he leaned completely into Monroe’s shoulder.

The woman gave Nick a suspicious once over then said, “I have to write down your license and make a report regardless of your standing, _detective._ I can drive you to the hospital myself. But you need to tell me, as an officer of the law yourself, why wouldn’t you call an ambulance?”

They both knew that that was the tip of the iceberg on questions they couldn’t answer so Monroe did the only thing that he knew for sure would prevent further ones. He woged.

The woman gasped violently before backing away quickly and shaking her head. Then after blinking at them a few times, she walked back to her patrol car and urgently waved them on.

“Now, so that doesn’t happen again, can you try to go at least close to the speed limit? Just try to calm down, for me? Okay?” Nick asked as he placed his hand lightly on Monroe’s shoulder. “We’re going to get there in time.”

It sounded to Monroe that Nick was reassuring himself, and he bristled at that. He should be there for Nick right now, not the other way around, “Of course, we will. In the nick of time, knowing us. Now get back in your seat.”

Nick laughed slightly more than Monroe thought was warranted by the comment before crossing his arms across his chest and leaning forward over the shoulder strap of his seatbelt.

Monroe frowned at him for a moment before turning his eyes back to the road. Then, thinking that it would at least give Nick something to keep his mind off of the direness of the current situation, “Hey, why don’t you call Hank and Rosalee? I’m sure they’ll want to know that they’re going to be Godparents, uh, sooner than they thought. Besides, I think Dr. Lehrer wanted Rosalee’s help.” 

After Nick spoke with each of them briefly, he went back to hugging his chest, looking deeply uncomfortable. Monroe tried to focus on the road and not Nick, trying his best to keep in mind that what he was currently doing was the best thing he could be doing.

However, the closer they got to the clinic, the more worried about Nick he became. He was becoming progressively less responsive to the things Monroe was saying. Sure, it was mostly just him rambling, but usually that was something Nick at least attempted to put a stop to. 

Consequently, he was rather relieved to see Rosalee running up to them as he parked the car. 

“How you guys doing?” She asked as she pulled the passenger side door open and started trying to help Nick out. He neither replied nor moved. 

“He’s hardly said two words since he called you and Hank,” Monroe said as he climbed out and slung Nick’s duffel bag over his shoulder. 

“Hmm,” Rosalee pursed her lips together and rested her hand on Nick’s shoulder. “Nick, I know you’re afraid something’s going to go wrong, but we can’t do anything for you if you’re sitting in the car out here.” 

“Rosalee, what are we going to do if he won’t get out?” Monroe whispered in her ear as he came up beside her. He noticed now that Nick was sitting stock still with his hands cupped around the edges of the seat; he was staring straight ahead, though his eyes didn’t seem to be fixed on anything in particular. 

“Well, worst case scenario, we’ll have to knock him out,” Rosalee said. She didn’t whisper. “But hopefully it won’t come to that. Will it, Nick?” 

Nick shook his head, seeming to snap out of it, before reaching out to both of them as he climbed out, “I’m really sorry, guys. I don’t know what came over me... I’m just... really freaked out.” 

“Yeah, you probably should be,” Monroe said as he and Rosalee wrapped their arms around Nick’s torso, leading him inside. “But we’re here now, and it’s going to be okay. Okay? No need to go catatonic on us.” 

“Yeah, well, I’ll try,” Nick said. “No promises.” 

XXX

After answering some questions for Dr. Lehrer, Nick had tried to really engage with Monroe and Rosalee and not let what happened in the car happen again, but his worries were still getting the better of him. 

“Oh god. Nick, this is bad. Your freaking out is freaking me out. And I don’t know what’s going to happen, and I’m not completely sure Dr. Lehrer or Rosalee do either and,” Monroe said as he paced a half a foot away from the bed Nick should be lying down on. He was, in point of fact, half sitting up sincerely wishing that he _wasn’t_ still freaking out. But he couldn’t help it. 

They couldn’t do the C-Section if he was in labor. While Dr. Lehrer had given him a strong dose of magnesium sulfate tempered with some Wesen mixture to stop, or, at the very least, slow down the natural --or, in his opinion, very unnatural-- course of things, he could not stop thinking about what would happen if it didn’t work.

 _Castration by baby_ was how Monroe had so elegantly put it after their last visit to Dr. Lehrer. And in this case, quite likely, lethal castration.

And of course, it was all a vicious cycle. Monroe being anxious about it was making him more anxious, and so on. He was trying not to focus on Monroe’s dizzying loop around the tile, but he couldn’t focus on anything else. Dr. Lehrer, Rosalee, and the nurse had all gone to find a few additional supplies -- not being in an actual hospital was slightly inconvenient for everyone, but they had all agreed that there would be too many unanswerable questions if they were.

“Monroe!” Rosalee said pointedly, not quite shouting from the door. It was instantly effective.

“I know. I know. I’m not helping. But I don’t know what to do,” Monroe said, looking abashed and upset. Then he took up a sudden interest in the medical supplies on the far counter. Nick wished he would come over to the chair by him and _just sit._ That would actually be helpful. Even though he was just on the other side of the room, it felt like he was too far away. But for some reason, saying anything felt like a lot of effort. Like there was a weight pressing on his lungs and vocal cords. He didn’t really understand why.

Then another contraction seized him, and he gasped in pain as he wrapped his hand firmly around the bed rail. They were getting more painful and closer together. Which was totally the opposite of what should be happening. He tried not to think about it. But it was all he could think about.

“Nick...?” Rosalee said, looking concerned, as she gripped his other hand. “They haven’t stopped?”

He shook his head because he couldn’t get the words out. His arms and legs were trembling, and he felt like he couldn’t breathe. Which was ridiculous. Of course, he could breathe. That wasn’t the problem. Everything else was the problem.

Rosalee leaned in closer and really looked at him, “Nick, can you answer me?”

He shook his head again, still gasping for air. The room was spinning, and he really, really couldn’t breathe.

The next thing he knew, Rosalee was pulling an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth, “Nick, I think you’re having a panic attack. You need to breathe, okay?”

Nick tried to nod. He didn’t actually know if he could do what she was asking, but he knew he needed to try. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Monroe turn around, trying not to woge.

Nick gulped at the oxygen. It helped. Sort of. Or, at least, the room stopped spinning. 

“Thank you, Rosalee. You’re not wrong. Keep that oxygen mask on him,” Dr. Lehrer said. She and the nurse walked back into the room and started setting up at the foot of the bed. “Nick, you need to lie down, and, like Rosalee said, breathe. Just breathe. That substance will take a little time to get in your system, but it should be working very soon. You’re going to be fine. I promise.”

He nodded as Rosalee squeezed his hand. He wanted to believe her, he really did.

But more than that, he wanted Monroe. He was beyond freaked out at this point, and maybe Monroe and his filter free rambling wasn’t the best thing for the situation, but it didn’t matter. He was still who Nick wanted to hold his hand through this. Rosalee was merely playing a very good second fiddle.

Nick let his eyes roam until they locked with Monroe’s, then he motioned with them and a slight tilt of his head for Monroe to come back over to him. It didn’t quite get the message across. Thankfully, Rosalee did. 

“Monroe, get over here, and sit down,” Rosalee shouted. “Nick needs you.”

“Dude, I’m sorry. I just... this is so not my area,” Monroe said, his eyes hollow, as he sank into the chair next to the bed. “This has already been a trial and half of tribulation for you. And I’m worried about you. And I was making it worse, and man, I do not want to make this worse.”

Nick didn’t really think that’s what he’d done. He wanted to say so too, but with the oxygen mask on, he couldn’t really. In lieu of words, he shook his head slightly as he stretched his hand out towards Monroe’s. Monroe took it, and he laced their fingers together.

“Nick, I need you to stay as still as you can, we’re going to give you a shot of anesthesia for the pain,” Dr. Lehrer said as she drew a needle over his other arm. It pinched slightly. Then she and the nurse started placing a sheet over his abdomen. “I’m going to make sure the contractions have stopped. Once I’m sure they have, we’re going to start.”

Nick tightened his grip on Monroe’s hand. He had known this was coming, but, well, he was not any less unglued about the whole ordeal.

“Nick, breathe,” Monroe said, his face contorting slightly. He didn’t say it in the calm, controlled way Rosalee had either. He sounded truly worried that Nick was going to stop. “Please breathe. Don’t have another panic attack. I can’t deal with that and neither can you.”

As Nick narrowed his eyes at him, Monroe seemed to realize that this was probably not the best approach. He stopped and took a deep breath himself.

“Okay, just focus on me,” Monroe said. “We’re going to meditate the way I do in yoga. Don’t focus on anything in this room other than me. No one here but the two of us, got it?”

Under any other circumstances, Nick would have laughed. Instead, he did exactly what Monroe asked. He nodded at Monroe and waited.

“Close your eyes and listen,” Monroe said before beginning to describe a waterfall vividly enough that Nick felt like he’d recognize it if it happened to be real, and he happened to stumble upon it. He let Monroe guide him across a river at the bottom of a waterfall as he felt the cool tip of some medical tool graze against his abdomen. He swallowed hard.

He knew Monroe had to have felt his arm twitch too, but Monroe just kept going so he kept trying to listen. As he heard Dr. Lehrer, Rosalee, and the nurse debating about something medical that he didn’t really want to understand, he reminded himself that he didn’t need to. He could feel gloved hands and metal tools moving across his chest. But they didn’t matter. It was just him and Monroe. Him and Monroe. And a waterfall. Nothing weird going. He most definitely wasn’t in the middle of giving birth right now. 

And that was how it went for the next half hour or so. He faded in and out of the guided imagery Monroe was creating for him, trying his best to ignore everything going on around him.

Until Monroe abruptly let go of his hand, and he heard the sound of a baby crying. He opened his eyes wide, but he couldn’t see anything past the oxygen mask and the strange green sheet over him. He knew his daughter was there, but he couldn’t see her. And at the end of all this, that was all he wanted.

“She’s beautiful, Nick,” Monroe said, his voice now coming from across the room. Nick couldn’t see him anywhere. Unbidden tears started to stream down his cheeks. “Just beautiful.”

He started pulling at the oxygen mask so he could say something. Rosalee was over his shoulder instantly, “Nick, I don’t think that’s a good idea. Not yet. We still have to stitch you up.”

He pushed her hand away and pulled it up anyway, “Rosalee, I want to see her. I can’t see her.”

“You’ll see her in a minute; I promise. They’re washing blood and amniotic fluid off of her,” Rosalee said, stroking her thumb down his cheek, tracing the line of one of his tears. “She’ll be a better sight for you when they’re done.”

“I don’t care what she looks like. I just want to see her,” Nick said, and he really meant that. Bloody mess or not, he just wanted to see his daughter.

“I know you do,” Rosalee said. “She’s your reward for all of this. You did great, by the way. I didn’t know Monroe could get you to concentrate like that.”

“Neither did I,” Nick admitted. “I’ve never really tried to meditate before. It’s not easy. But easier than whatever you were doing, I’m sure.”

Rosalee laughed lightly at that, “I’m sure. ”

She leaned down and kissed Nick on the forehead. Nick smiled weakly as his eyes flickered across the room. He really just wanted one thing right now, and that was to hold Clara. He could still hear her crying. 

Finally, Monroe, holding what looked like a bundle of blankets and beaming, walked slowly over to them. He looked down at Nick before handing her to him, “You got her?”

“Yeah,” Nick said. He levered her head up with his palm so he could really look at her. She had a small wisp of brown hair and barely opened seemingly brown eyes. Monroe wasn’t wrong. She was beautiful. 

He whispered to her, “Hello, Clara. It’s so nice to see you on the outside.” 

Then he held her close to his chest as he kissed her on the forehead. And that was the last thing he remembered doing because as far as he could tell, he’d simply blacked out after that. 

Monroe or Rosalee rescued Clara from him; he wasn’t really sure which. The retellings he got from them later never had it exactly the same.


	9. Chapter 9

Nick woke to the faint sound of Clara crying crackling through the baby monitor. He shot up and swung his legs over the bed before realizing it wasn’t his own -- well, at least, not anymore. 

He half stepped and half dropped onto the floor of the guest room, which was, at this point, mostly Clara’s. She was, however, Nick imagined, sleeping in the bassinet that was in his and Monroe’s room. 

He leaned his head over his legs as a bout of nausea washed over him. Thankfully, because he wasn’t sure he was up to doing anything for her, Clara stopped crying. 

Lacking the energy to get back off the floor, he reached past the nightstand for the wastebasket, hoping he wouldn’t need it. He leaned over it with one elbow before beginning to rub at his aching temple, trying to sift through his recent memories. They were patchy. 

He thought he remembered Dr. Lehrer saying something to him, or mostly Monroe, about sedating him until his body was done transitioning back to its normal state. He imagined being drugged would account for why he felt like he was getting over, or maybe still had, the flu. Granted, now that he thought about it, that was roughly the way he’d felt the first time. 

“Nick...?” Monroe said as he tapped lightly on the guest bedroom’s doorway. 

He made some guttural noise in an attempt to acquiesce to Monroe’s presence and simultaneously not open his mouth. 

It must have worked since Monroe came up the short flight of steps, holding Clara tightly to his chest and holding a bottle in his free hand. He started walking towards the crib that was opposite the bed Nick had been sleeping on. 

Nick waved at him to bring Clara with him. 

He felt that he hadn’t seen anywhere near enough of her. He’d spent far too much time looking at the back of his eyelids. 

Monroe cautiously sank down on the floor across from him, still holding Clara. She was blinking drowsily, clearly half asleep. It was precious. 

Nick took a deep breath, and, feeling slightly less nauseous, risked opening his mouth. “How did you get me up here?” 

“You walked up here, with me and Hank. You don’t remember?” Monroe said. His eyes tilted up to Nick, quirked in questioning concern. 

“No,” Nick said, shrugging. He thought maybe the memory would come with Monroe’s explaining that it happened, but it didn’t. 

“Well, I guess maybe you wouldn’t. We were second guessing how good of an idea it really was when we were halfway up the steps. But at that point, well, we were half way up the steps,” Monroe said. “But really, man, this is the most coherent I’ve had you in nearly three days.” 

Nick closed his eyes, still trying to sort out whatever he could. “I sort of remember getting in the car. You and Rosalee were having trouble with the car seat?” 

“Yeah. Apparently, seat-belts and car seats are a little like oil and water,” Monroe said. “Especially if you’re trying to get your semi-conscious boyfriend and newborn daughter home in a timely fashion.” 

“Well thanks for that,” Nick said. He looked back at Clara. Her eyes were closed, and her tiny hands were balled into fists. 

“Think you’re up to holding her?” Monroe asked, guessing what Nick wanted. 

“Won’t that wake her back up?” Nick asked, though he was already reaching for her. 

“Probably. But I’m thinking you bonding with her is more important,” Monroe said. 

Their arms touched as Monroe shifted her from his arms to Nick's, and, for a moment, they were both holding her. 

As they did, footsteps creaked against the wooden floor, and Nick, knowing Monroe was next to him, tensed reflexively and started folding himself protectively over both him and Clara, wondering dimly how helpful that was likely to be if there were someone breaking in. 

Monroe, however, shouted for Hank to come on up. Somehow, Clara stayed asleep. 

Hank set a bottle of ginger ale and a glass on the bedside table before sitting down on the end of the bed, ignoring the completely rumpled bedspread. 

"Did you warn him?" Hank asked. 

Nick, initially thinking the question was directed at him, asked, "About what?" 

“Not yet,” Monroe said edgily. “I was getting there.” 

“How quickly?” Hank asked with a knowing laugh. 

Nick noticed Monroe was now shaking his head violently. "Oh, this is a nightmare. Or is going to be a nightmare.” 

He threw his head into his hands, seemingly, in defeat. 

“What is?” Nick asked.

“Our folks, Nick,” Monroe said. “They’re here. Well, your mom and my mom. They’re in the kitchen right now. Oh god. Hank, you left them alone down there? Oh god. I have to go back before they start something with the kitchenware.” 

Monroe, not waiting for any kind of answer, got up and started running down the steps. 

Nick, who had not fully processed anything that Monroe had just said, shouted at his retreating figure, “What? How? They didn’t even know.” 

“You guys didn’t tell your parents you were having a baby?” Hank asked. “I completely understand if you didn’t want to tell them how, but you could have told them the same story you told everyone else that didn’t know.” 

“We _did_ tell them we had a surrogate,” Nick said, hanging on to Clara with one arm as he started leaning over the wastebasket with the other. His sinking feeling about the whole situation was not improving how queasy he already felt. 

His mother and Monroe’s mother had never met each other, but Monroe’s mother had wanted to kill him from the moment she knew he was a Grimm. He imagined that desire completely extended to his mother. Consequently, he didn’t remotely doubt Monroe’s instincts about the women and their proximity to knives. “We didn’t tell them when she was due, and we only told them a few weeks ago.” 

“News travels, Nicky. You know that,” his mother said from the stairs. “A Grimm and a Blutbad have a baby together? Everyone knows about it within days. Now let me see that granddaughter of mine.” 

Nick, too dazed to do anything else, handed Clara up to her. 

“You shouldn’t be holding her anyway, if you have the flu,” she continued. So that was the story they were going with. He could run with that -- it felt genuine enough. 

Then, because his body apparently felt the need to really sell it, he threw up. 

When he was done, he leaned shakily over the wastebasket wishing fervently that his mother wasn’t there. 

He was grateful when Hank helped him back up to the bed and offered to fill the glass he’d brought up with water. Or, at least, he was until he realized he was essentially being left alone with his mother --to have an incredibly awkward conversation. 

“What did your partner mean by everyone that didn’t know?” His mother asked. 

As he dabbed at the corners of his mouth with a tissue, Nick decided he’d be lucky if he made it through the conversation without throwing up a second time. 

She put Clara down in her crib and came over and sat down next to him. “What didn’t everyone know?” 

“Mom,” Nick started, faltered, then finished, “please, I’m begging you, don’t ask.” 

“Okay,” she agreed gently, but awkwardly, patting his hand with hers. Then she straightened up, “I really am sorry to have showed up like this, but ...” 

Nick waved his hand dismissively. He knew enough of her spiel to guess what she had to say, and he wasn’t in the mood for it. Not right now. He felt awful enough physically; he didn’t need the emotional stress on top of it. 

“Just do me one favor while you’re here,” Nick said evenly. Then when she gave him an inquisitive look, he continued, “Don’t kill Monroe’s mom.” 

“I’ll do my best,” she said plaintively. 

“She’s nice enough,” Nick said cynically,“once you get past the fact that she wants to kill you.” 

His mom chuckled as Monroe walked back in with the glass that Hank had left with. 

“Hank got a call about a case; he had to go,” Monroe said, handing the glass to Nick. Nick stretched for it, a little too far apparently. 

He winced and gasped against the pull of his stitches. 

Before either of them thought anything about it, Monroe had pulled his shirt up to look. He ran his index finger above the line of them, and satisfied that nothing unto had happened, he pulled the shirt back down. 

“I think you’re okay,” Monroe said. Then they both felt the heat of his mother’s gaze falling on them. They looked up warily. 

“You don’t have the flu, do you?” his mom asked. 

Nick, although he had the feeling he didn’t really need to provide an answer, shook his head. 

“I’m going to make you some tea,” she said, definitively, as though that were the solution to everything and headed for the stairs. Nick didn’t argue. 

“Is your mom still here?” Nick asked, looking back at Monroe. 

“Yeah,” Monroe said. “I think I probably ought to take Clara back down there. She may only be three days old, but she is an incredibly good weapon when it comes to shielding and distraction. No one wants to hurt her.” 

“Think we should maybe hide anything sharp?” Nick said. 

“Or just start baby proofing,” Monroe said. “Fighting to get in our cabinets would probably slow them down.” 

Nick laughed, then he gave the stairs a dubious glance. “I should probably come downstairs too.” 

“You up to that?” Monroe asked skeptically. 

“I’m going to have to be,” Nick said. 

“Anything to stop the inevitable blood feud, huh?” Monroe asked as he wrapped his arm around Nick’s waist and pulled him up. 

“Well, we do have a daughter now,” Nick said, leaning in to kiss Monroe. “We have to set an example for her.” 

“That we do,” Monroe said, wiping at his mouth with his arm. “I think I’m starting her with a simpler lesson than not letting your in-laws kill each other, though. One you apparently didn’t learn. It involves brushing teeth.” 

XXX

Somehow, and Monroe didn’t think he would ever know how, he and Nick survived that first week, when neither of their mothers would leave and the tension in the house just never drained. 

He wished he could deny that they had been helpful, but he knew he would have been taking care of Nick and Clara if they weren’t there. Certainly Hank and Rosalee would have readily lent a hand, but lacking his and Nick’s Wesen expertise, Hank had turned to Rosalee for help with a case he was having some trouble with. Monroe figured if he didn’t absolutely need to bother them, he should probably leave them to it.

And while he had read and read about taking care of a newborn, it was nice to have two someones around who had actually done it before. 

Unless those two someones disagreed or offered advice that was painfully outdated or clearly following a pack mentality. 

The uncertainty of how much stronger their desire to nurture their granddaughter was than to murder the other left him and Nick constantly running interference and wrangling them so they spent as little time together as possible. 

It was impossible to say they were anything but polite to one another, but it was a cold kind of politeness that suggested they were biding their time, sharpening knives in dark corners, and planning when best to plant the poison. Nick and Monroe imagined it was only Clara that really stopped them. 

Of course, Nick’s mother was also stopped by the fact that Nick’s wrangling had mostly boiled down to his persuading her, hesitantly at first, to take more care of him than she had in nearly twenty years. He maybe didn’t have the flu, as he’d told both her and Monroe, but it certainly felt like he did. And, because of this, Monroe sensed, he felt next to useless with helping with Clara. In a twisted way, his mother being there seemed to help him cope with that feeling. Even though he didn’t say anything, Monroe imagined the logic was a little to the effect of, ‘hey, I may not be able to help right now, but I’m going to. And, besides, there’s no way I’m going to screw up as much as she did.’ 

At the end of the week, after he and Nick, who was feeling markedly better, had put Clara to bed, they had collapsed, completely exhausted over the kitchen table, thankful that both of their mothers had departed for their respective homes. 

“I think they’re more work than she will ever be,” Nick said. 

Monroe lifted the beer he’d been nursing and clinked it against Nick’s. “Well, let’s hope so. Though with the amount of trouble we manage to get into, I’m not banking on it.” 

Nick snorted. Then changing the subject, he asked, “Did you switch where the baby monitors were?” 

“I thought we were going to keep her in our room for another week?” Monroe said. 

“Well, we can. But maybe we should make tonight a trial run for her being in her room? I keep wanting to get up and check on her every time she moves, where she is now. And I know you do too. And we really shouldn’t. Both of our moms said that...” Nick said. Then, with a devilish smirk, he added, “Besides, I think we have an opportunity to use our bed properly for the first time since...” 

Then he raised his eyebrows, in a way Monroe imagined was meant to be seductive. It just made him want to laugh. 

Snickering, Monroe said,“Well, I think we can accommodate Clara’s sleeping arrangement accordingly.” 

“Maybe we don’t need to,” Nick said, rubbing his toes along the inside of Monroe’s leg. As seduction techniques went, this one was considerably more effective. “We do have a perfectly good kitchen.” 

Nick moved behind him and ran his fingers along the back of his neck. When he leaned down to kiss him, Monroe pulled him into his lap. 

“Sturdy counters too,” Nick said when they stopped for air. Monroe, deciding that they could put the counter theory to the test -- well, for the first time in a while, anyway -- threw Nick over his shoulder before setting him down beneath one of the cabinets. 

A while later, completely sated, they headed upstairs and tried not to wake Clara. 

The next morning, the crackle of thunder and the gentle patter of rain against the side of the house woke them up shortly before Monroe’s alarm would have. 

Nick looked down at Clara’s sleeping form, clearly unconvinced that she would be able to sleep so peacefully through the storm. When he started to reach for her, Monroe pulled him back. “Until she opens her eyes or starts crying, she’s staying right where she is.” 

As he did, Clara yawned and blinked, so he let Nick go. 

Nick picked her up and held her close to his chest with a degree of reverence that Monroe thought suggested he hadn’t yet changed enough of her diapers. 

Of course, he was looking at her and Nick exactly the same way. 

He folded his arms around Nick from behind, just gazing at the two of them, knowing this was going to be a rare moment. Their lives were never going to easily lend themselves to the peace of the whole family being home and drowsing against a mild morning thunderstorm. Destiny and being chosen for something entirely different was bound to get in the way. 

“Do you think she has any idea how unusual her life is going to be?” Nick asked. 

“Well, I don’t think telling her now would do any good,” Monroe said. “But considering she’s spent the first week of her life being fought over by two women dead set on the other’s undoing, I think if she’s aware of any of this, she probably has some inkling.” 

“Do you really think she’s going to be part Grimm and part Blutbad, like it said in that journal?” Nick asked. 

“I wish I knew, man. I wish I knew,” Monroe said. “But we’re just going to have to wait to find out.” 

Then as he considered what Clara might be, Monroe remembered that he needed to explain to Nick what, to the state of Oregon, she already was, “I have something I need to show you.” 

“Oh?” Nick said, looking hopeful. 

“Don’t get excited. It’s not anything special,” Monroe said. “I just think you ought to know what’s on your daughter’s birth certificate.” 

“I’d ask how Rosalee pulled this off, but I have the feeling that I don’t want to know,” Nick said. “I’d lose my plausible deniability.” 

Monroe rolled his eyes. Nick’s line between police work and Grimm work, and the ethics behind the former, blurred and swayed too constantly for his understanding. 

“Yeah, okay. So, were you not in the car when I was driving you to the hospital?” Monroe asked. 

Nick ducked his head and pulled Clara in front of him protectively. “Let’s not talk about that.” 

“Anyway,” Monroe said as he pulled open the drawer on his bedside table. “This was the best we could do to get both of us on there.” 

_This Certificate is to certify that_  
 _Clara Marie Burkhardt was_  
 _Born to Nicholas Burkhardt and Edita Monroe_  
 _On February 25th at 3:43 a.m._  
 _Weight 7 lbs 6 oz._

“What are we going to do if someone goes looking for _Edita_?” Nick asked. 

“Well, they’ll have a lot of trouble getting in touch,” Monroe said. “She died tragically in childbirth.” 

“I’m not even asking about the paper trail,” Nick said. 

“All I’m going to say is that it’s a good thing Rosalee’s not a white collar criminal,” Monroe said. “As long as she wasn’t under pressure to do it quickly, she’d be really good at it.” 

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Nick said. “Even though I don’t think I need any convincing." 

Nick ran his finger along the edge of the paper contemplatively, then, looking hollow and serious, he said, “Thanks for not giving me the details before now. I really appreciate it.” 

“Yeah, I didn’t think you would want to know about Edita’s demise,” Monroe said, reaching for Nick’s hand. “But, hey, you’re still here. ” 

“Monroe,” Nick said quietly. “I love Clara, I do, but I wish I hadn’t had to go through that. Any of that.” 

“Those are still things you can’t equate, Nick. But I’m sorry that you did go through it. I know it was miserable,” Monroe said. He kept squeezing at Nick’s hand as he did, hoping that hollow look would dissipate. “But, if it helps, I’m pretty sure you’ll never have to do it again.” 

“Yeah, I know I won’t,” Nick said. Then with a levity that Monroe deeply appreciated, he added, “Because the next time we come across a fertility inducing snake, I’m making sure it bites you.” 

“Please tell me you don’t think there will be a next time,” Monroe said. 

“There better not be,” Nick said, pressing Clara’s hand against Monroe’s arm. “But really, next time, I’m telling you, this is all on you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I had that there would be 9 chapters before, I just wasn't going to fit everything I wanted to in if I left it like that, but I promise that there won't be more than 10. 
> 
> And really, this is the conclusion, since ch. 10 is going to be more like an epilogue.
> 
>  
> 
> I'll move this note to the epilogue when I'm done....but, on a scale of 1-10 how much will you guys judge me if I write a sequel to this in which Monroe is pregnant? And it’s planned -- but only by Monroe (and consequently, Nick initially sort of/kind of wants to kill him because for the love of God, why would he put himself through that knowing what it had been like for Nick?). 
> 
> I'm pretty sure I'm judging myself pretty heavily... because what even. But it's in my head and I haven't yet gotten it out.


End file.
